Hurricane
by A Phrase That Cuts These Lips
Summary: Two years after Kurt and Blaine's divorce, Kurt finally wins custody of their daughter. A week later, Blaine attempts suicide. He has nowhere else to go, so Kurt volunteers to take him in, believing that he can help Blaine.
1. Darkest Before The Dawn

**Full Sumarry: **Two years after Kurt and Blaine's messy divorce, Kurt finally wins full custody of their daughter after a long and painful battle. A week later, Blaine attempts suicide. He has no one else to turn to, and Kurt volunteers to take him in, believing that he can rehabilitate Blaine. The man he fell in love with is still in there, somewhere - he just has to figure out how to bring him back. The process, however, won't be easy for anyone.

**Warnings: **Alcoholism, brief mentions of one-time domestic abuse (the only explicit instance will be in a flashback in chapter two), depression, and in later chapters attempted suicide (but no character death). If any of these things are triggering for you please don't read, I don't want to upset anybody. And if I missed a trigger, let me know and I'll add it to the warnings.

**A/N: **Both titles (of the 'verse and the chapter itself) are from Florence + The Machine songs, as her music has been my biggest inspiration for writing this. (I chose _Hurricane _because the song Hurricane Drunk reminds me of the Blaine of this verse.) Since this has no end that I can see at the moment, I'll be updating this as I feel like it, when I feel like it - whenever I have a scenario in my head for the 'verse that I want to write. I want to try to make each piece a standalone thing, too, but we'll see how that goes. Maybe no one else will be interested in this, but it won't stop bugging me, so I wanted to get it written. Also, I apparently can't go for long without writing heartbreaking angst. I wonder what that says about me.

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><p>Kurt hasn't actually been inside Blaine's tiny apartment since… well, since Blaine first moved in, he thinks. Parked outside, yes, many times, but always to meet him there, not to go in. It's actually not as much of a wreck as he had built it up to be in his mind, but the coffee table is still covered in old beer bottles, and he can see that the little kitchen needs a days' worth of cleaning, and there's a vibe about the place that makes him want to gag. He's glad that he won't have to come back, at least if all goes well.<p>

He takes a moment to breathe before he raps his knuckles on the already open door. "Hey." Kurt says quietly. Blaine looks up from where he sits on the floor, helping Amelia put some of her favorite toys in her favorite little backpack. Amelia jumps up, shouting, "Hi, Daddy!" and running into his arms. Kurt kneels down and hugs her close to him, eyes drifting closed as he squeezes her. Blaine watches them from the other side of the room in silence, and when Kurt looks into his eyes, he only meets them for a moment before he looks away.

"Amelia, why don't you go to your room and grab your things? And make sure you haven't forgotten anything, okay, sweetheart?" Kurt says, releasing her. She nods and runs down the hall to her room, five-year-old feet thundering as she goes. Kurt stands at the same time as Blaine does. He can't tell if Blaine is drunk yet today, but at least he seems aware of himself. "How are you?" He asks, if only to break the silence.

Blaine shrugs, shuffling his feet. "I'm dealing," he says quietly, still not meeting Kurt's eyes. But that's the problem, he _isn't _dealing. Blaine's version of _dealing _with something is to drink himself half to death. It breaks Kurt's heart all over again, seeing him this way, but he can't do anything about it. It makes him feel helpless. "Her stuff is all packed and ready to go."

"Thank you."

"I - I thought I could keep a few things? Some special toys and stuff. For when… _if_ she gets to visit." He hesitates, as if he might get in trouble for asking for anything.

"Of course you can." They haven't worked out visitation rights yet, but it will have to be dealt with soon, another horrible legal battle that he just wants out of the way. He assumes that Blaine will visit their daughter at Kurt's house rather than bringing her here, at least at first, until Blaine can prove that his home is child safe - unlikely.

It isn't that Kurt doesn't want Blaine to see Amelia, he does, but while he knows that Blaine would never, ever hurt her, there is no denying that he's unstable. He scares Kurt a lot of the time and that's something he wishes he didn't have to even think. There had never been any doubt that Kurt would win full custody, they both knew it, even if Blaine fought tooth and nail to keep her. With Kurt, she would have the healthy environment she couldn't have with Blaine.

"I hope you're happy now," Blaine says. Kurt can't tell if his tone is sad or angry. Maybe both.

Kurt swallows. He knows that he should be happy. He has Amelia back, full time - it _should _make him overjoyed. He won, and Kurt still loves to win. So why does he ache at the thought of bringing her home, of separating them, now? "Not really." He answers.

"Why not? You have what you want now, right?"

"Maybe because I know how it feels to have my child taken away from me?" It comes out more venomous than he had intended, but when Blaine is sarcastic with him it brings out the worst. Blaine huffs, arms crossing over his chest defensively. He starts to argue, but Kurt interrupts before he can even begin. "Just - don't. You brought this upon yourself, Blaine, so take it out on me, alright?"

He still looks like he wants to argue, but all at once, Blaine seems to deflate, all fire gone from his eyes, dead to the world again. Kurt would almost rather see him fighting, at least that means he _cares. _"As long as she's happy," he mutters. "That's all that matters, right?"

"Yeah," Kurt says softly. There was a time when he could have wrapped Blaine up in his arms and held him until he felt better. Not anymore, not for a long time. He doesn't know why it still hurts; shouldn't the heartache have stopped by now? "Are you going to be okay?"

"Do I look okay?"

He doesn't. There are dark circles under his eyes and he's paler than Kurt has ever seen and it's pathetic, really, and sad. Kurt shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs. "Blaine…" He trails off, unsure of where to go from there.

At that moment, Amelia wanders back in, dragging a brown duffel bag behind her. "Here you go, Daddy." She lets it drop at his feet.

"Oh, look how strong you are!" Kurt bends down and kisses her on the cheek, making her giggle. "Thank you, sweet girl."

"Do we have to go now?"

Kurt glances back at Blaine. He's just staring at Amelia with such longing that it make Kurt's chest ache Kurt knows what's going to happen, after he leaves. Blaine is going to drink and drink and drink, and he's not a happy drunk anymore. He just gets sadder and more volatile and Kurt _hates _it.

More than anything he wishes that he could help, but he just doesn't know how anymore, hasn't known how to even _talk _to Blaine in years. Not that Blaine would let him. It's like he doesn't want to get better. Like he wants to waste away, be this shadow of himself. He just doesn't care enough about himself to fix anything.

"Yes," Kurt says quietly. "It's time to go home now. Say goodbye to Papa, okay?"

She turns back around, dark curls bouncing as she wraps her arms around her father's broad shoulders. He hugs her tight, eyes squeezed closed, like if he just holds her tight enough she won't have to leave. Kurt's throat tightens as he watches them, and wishes that things could be different. It isn't fair that he has to feel like the villain no matter how things work out.

"You be good for your Daddy, okay?" Blaine whispers into her ear. "Promise."

"I promise." She whispers back. She's a complete goofball 99% of the time, but as soon as it matters, she turns around and becomes the most serious little creature Kurt has ever met.

"Good girl. I love you so much."

"Love you too, Papa." She kisses the tip of his nose, which makes Blaine smile for the first time since Kurt had arrived. He takes her little backpack, zips it up, and helps her put it on, and Kurt picks up the duffel bag. There's nothing more to do but leave, but it feels like there is so much left to say.

Kurt reaches out, and Blaine startles a little when Kurt touches his shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Blaine." He says.

Blaine laughs, hard and bitter, and looks away. "Uh-huh." His eyes shine with unshed tears.

"I mean it."

"Sure, Kurt."

He has to resist the impulse, or maybe the instinct, to hug him. They don't do that anymore, and Kurt misses the warmth and strength of those arms. He misses having someone to hold him and to hold, to be loved and cherished by, and love and cherish in return.

He misses his husband more than anything else in the world. But that's not the same man that stands in front of him now.

He reaches out with his free hand and takes Amelia's, squeezing gently around her tiny fingers. "Bye, Blaine." He says, not enough, but all he can think of to say. Blaine nods, and doesn't meet Kurt's eyes, doesn't look at him even when Kurt turns and leaves the apartment.

Amelia chatters all the way down to the car, the whole time he's buckling her into her booster seat, even as he pulls the car out of the parking lot. Something makes her fall silent, though, and when he glances at her in the rear-view mirror she has a look of intense concentration on her face. "Am I going back to Papa's tomorrow?" She asks suddenly.

Kurt grips the steering wheel tight. "No, Amelia. You and Papa and I all talked about this, remember? You're going to stay with Daddy now."

To be honest, a part of him had wanted to give up during the heat of the custody battle. Amelia had been so confused, over that and the divorce, and she'd had hundreds of questions that neither he nor Blaine could figure out how to answer. Part of him would have been okay with letting Blaine have her more just so that she could have the consistency of living in one home. Of course he wants her with him, but he hates having to explain to her why she can't see one of them, or why her Papa is so sad and angry all the time, or why they aren't married anymore. Why they aren't in love anymore. She still doesn't know the full story and he, for one, will never tell her what had happened to make him end it.

"Oh." Amelia frowns, face screwed up in concentration as if she's solving a riddle. "When do I get to see Papa?"

Kurt swallows. "Soon, honey." That's one thing he won't fight Blaine over. He's not going to keep Amelia from her father, no matter how they work their own issues out. "I promise."

"Okay!" She perks up after that and doesn't ask any more questions, just entertains herself with singing little nonsense songs that she makes up on the spot and kicking the back of Kurt's seat. He doesn't have the heart to tell her to stop.

* * *

><p>Amelia looks down at her plate like it has personally offended her, and then back at Kurt, eyebrows raised, and she looks just like him right now, damn it. He closes his eyes and counts backward from ten. She hadn't stopped complaining since the instant they stepped in the door, offended by every little gesture Kurt tried to make. She didn't like the games he offered to play, or the cartoons he suggested she watch, or the snacks she had even <em>asked <em>for. Kurt tries to be patient. He knows how she gets when the routine is broken up, know that this is particularly confusing day for her. That's something he hopes to remedy by having custody of her, lessening the confusion of going back and forth from home to home without sticking in any particular schedule.

But it's so hard when she refuses to be content. She's like Blaine in that way; determined to stay in a mood once she gets in one, for better or worse.

"What is it?" He asks as calmly as he can manage.

"Papa always cuts the crust off my sammiches." She stumbles over the word, and Kurt can't help but smile.

"My mistake." He takes a knife and carefully slices off the crust, then passes the peanut butter and jelly sandwich back to her. Amelia scowls. "What now?" Kurt groans. She hasn't even taken a bite. After refusing all dinner suggestions, she had demanded peanut butter and jelly, and after he's finally given in, she won't even eat.

"_Papa _cuts it in squares."

Kurt rubs at his temples with the tips of his fingers. "Sweetheart, I can't. It's already cut into triangles."

"It's not right!" Her voice gets shriller with every word.

"I'm sorry, Amelia. I didn't _know. _Can't you eat it this way for now, and next time I'll remember to cut it into squares, just the way you like it?"

She shakes her head and kicks at the leg of the table, rattling her glass of milk and nearly spilling it. "No! You aren't doing it right! Papa does everything better."

"Well, I'm not Papa!" He doesn't mean to snap, and wants to take it back the instant he says it. The look of shock on Amelia's face quickly crumples as fat tears well up in her eyes. "Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell -"

"I want my Papa," she says, voice rising to a wail. "I wanna go home. I _hate_ your house. I wanna go _home!" _She dissolves into loud, wet, messy sobs. And he knows that she's five years old and is bound to have temper tantrums, especially on days like today that are so confusing for her young mind, but he just wants one day - is it so much to ask for one day where someone isn't breaking his heart?

The lump that has been rising in his throat all day long comes to the surface, and Kurt tries in vain to swallow it back down. It's just a fucking sandwich, just a little temper tantrum, but god, he must be the worst father in the world if he can't even compare to _Blaine _in her eyes. Any day where he has to see Blaine gets him stupidly emotional even though he knows it shouldn't, and today is no exception. He tugs Amelia into his lap, bouncing her gently on his knee and shushing her, the way he used to when she was littler, and even though she doesn't like him right now she hides her face in his chest, staining his shirt with tears. He lets her cry herself to exhaustion. "I know, baby. I know you do." He whispers, and presses his cheek to the top of her hair. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, trying to choke back his own oncoming tears.

Someday, he thinks. Someday, it's going to get easier.

But today isn't that day.


	2. Devil In Me

Warning: This is the part with the domestic abuse. This will be the only explicit description of it, after this there will only be mentions of the incident. To be clear, this is the only time it happened and no one is getting hit anywhere else in the story.  
>If this is triggering for you but the rest of the stuff in the story isn't, you can probably get away with skipping it, but it does give a little background to the 'verse. It's up to you. :)<p>

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><p><em>He couldn't tell you what started the fight. After a while, it didn't matter - once they started screaming at each other, they couldn't stop. Kurt is sure that most of the things said have nothing to do with what the fight is actually about. It turns into a list, almost, of everything they hate about the other, a list that shouldn't be as long as it is.<em>

_It seems to happen all the time now, the fighting. He picks fights when Blaine drinks. Blaine is angry when he doesn't drink, and sad when he does. No matter what there's always something wrong, and Kurt doesn't know when it began or how to fix it._

_And it just doesn't stop. They're in each other's faces and screaming, and Kurt wants it to stop but can't. There are tears streaming down his cheeks and his words come out more like sobs than anything intelligible, and he has to stop this, he has to be the better person and walk away and let them calm down until they remember that they love each other. He knows this, but he keeps on screaming. Finally, he bursts out, "Just because you're too much of a _fucking _coward to deal with your own mistakes, just because you're too scared to start a day without a drink -"_

_The force of the slap echoes in the sudden silence of the room. Kurt can't breathe as he lifts a hand to his stinging cheek. When he looks at Blaine, all of the anger has drained out of his now ghost-white face. Now he stares at Kurt in horror instead of rage._

"_Kurt," he whispers. His voice quivers, small and quiet as if scared that if he speaks too loud something will break - but it doesn't matter. Something is already broken, and probably has been for a long time. Blaine is not abusive, and this is, more likely than not, a one-time mistake. But added on top of everything else, the anger and the hurt -it's the straw that breaks the camel's back. "Kurt, I-"_

"_Get out." Kurt says. It almost scares him how calm he is, methodically severing the ties to the man who has been his entire life since he was seventeen._

"_I'm sorry -" Blaine reaches out, as if to offer comfort, and Kurt automatically flinches back, nearly tripping over his own feet. Never in all their long years together has he been afraid of Blaine. Not until now. _

"_Get away!" Blaine backs up, wrapping his arms tight around himself, and there are tears in his eyes now. He knows how much he's screwed up. And Kurt just doesn't care. Can't find it in him to care, anymore. "I said get out of my house." His house now, not Blaine's, not anymore. Kurt's voice is utterly cold. He can still feel the impact of Blaine's hand on his cheek._

_Blaine steps back through the door, openly crying, shoulders shaking with repressed sobs. "I'm sorry," he repeats, and Kurt's heart shatters all over again. "I'm sorry, Kurt, god, I'm so, so sorry…"_

"_Not as sorry as I am." He slams the door. He can hear Blaine crying outside for a long time afterwards, deep, wrenching sobs that tear straight through him. Kurt sinks down to the floor, all previous coldness gone and replaced with simple exhaustion, and lets the tears come again, rolling hot down his cheeks. _

_Eventually, after the sounds of his crying have faded, Kurt hears Blaine walking away, his footsteps growing fainter every second. Eventually Kurt's chest stops heaving, and he wipes his face and breathes in deep and stands, going to the other room to see if they woke three year old Amelia with their fighting and sooth her back to sleep. He doesn't answer the five messages Blaine leaves on his voicemail throughout the night, not when he can still feel the imprint of Blaine's hand on his cheek, even once it's stopped hurting, for hours after._

_Blaine will come back, eventually, and he'll try to talk, he'll half-heartedly suggest that they try to get some help, maybe hire one of the marriage counselors he's always scoffed at. But Kurt knows that it's too late._

_It's over._


	3. Damned If I Do

The phone wakes Kurt at eight-thirty. He groans and hides his face in the pillow, but the ringing continues, high pitched and incessant. He still sets certain songs to all of his personal contacts, but this is the default ringtone, so he doesn't know who the hell thinks it's okay to call him at this time, which makes it worse - at least he's used to Rachel calling at ungodly hours just to vent over various injustices. He had planned to actually sleep in a couple hours on his day off before dropping Amelia off at kindergarten and this anonymous person is ruining it.

Ignoring the sound proves fruitless, and somehow it gets through his sleep-muddled brain that the sound is going to wake Amelia, who has just gotten through her first full night of sleep since he brought her home one week ago. He reaches blindly for the phone on his bedside table, fumbling with it a little before he answers the call. "H'llo?" He sits up and yawns, voice slurred from sleep.

"Is this Mr. Hummel-Anderson speaking?" An unfamiliar voice, young and female, speaks up.

"Just Hummel," he corrects automatically, rolling his shoulders back to work out the kinks from sleep. He needs a good massage, he hasn't had one in ages - well, not since Blaine used to give them to him, he realizes, the thought making his heart clench a little bit. "Um, sorry, who is this?"

The girl clears her throat. "I'm calling from the New York City General Hospital. Your name was first on the list of names to call, so…" She trails off. Kurt automatically panics at the mention of the word hospital, his mind immediately turning to his father - but even if Burt was in the hospital it wouldn't be in New York, of course.

"What is this about?" He demands. "Who's in the hospital?"

"Blaine Hummel-Anderson, sir." Kurt blinks, the shock like a bucket of ice water thrown over his head. He opens his mouth a few times without any sound coming out. The girl takes it as a cue to keep talking. "I understand that you and Mr. Hummel-Anderson are no longer married, but there was no way to get in touch with his parents, so his daughter is the closest family he has. And, well, that leads to you."

Kurt rubs at the bridge of his nose. If he wasn't awake before he surely is now. "Is Blaine okay?" He asks. "What happened?"

"He tried to commit suicide last night."

There's a ringing in his ears, drowning out any other sound. He can't remember how to breathe properly, his hands clenching and unclenching in the comforter beside him. This can't be happening. It can't be real. He would say that he's dreaming, but his subconscious would have to be truly sick to come up with this.

"…Mr. Hummel-Anderson?"

Kurt shakes his head and tries to remember how to speak. "I - yes, I'm here. I'm sorry - he tried to _kill_ himself?" Kurt's voice comes out sounding strangled, and he doesn't bother trying to correct her this time. _Why? _What would drive him to do that? He had assumed that Blaine had gotten alcohol poisoning or something, he's actually surprised that it hasn't happened yet, but - _suicide?_

"I'm afraid so, sir. They only just now got him stabilized, but he should be fine."

He can finally draw a breath, though he hadn't realized that he'd actually stopped breathing. "Thank god," he whispers, closing his eyes. The girl continues as if he hadn't spoken.

"Once he's released from our care he'll have to stay with family for a certain amount of time, to ensure that he'll be safe and won't try this again. Seeing as his immediate family is unavailable, and he doesn't have anyone listed as an emergency contact, I'm afraid you and your daughter are the closest to family that he has, now."

"I…" Kurt trails off, mind whirling. It's too much to process so early in the morning, and he's fairly sure that he's actually in shock. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea," he says carefully, once he's had a moment to collect his thoughts. "We've just been through a very messy divorce, and…" Even as he says it, he wonders why he automatically tried to back out. It's not as though he doesn't want to make sure Blaine is all right, of course he does. Just because they aren't together doesn't mean he doesn't _care _anymore. But having Blaine _live _here?

"I understand sir, but either he stays with you or goes to a rehabilitation clinic. He'll have a therapist there, of course, and they can help him to control his alcoholism."

"No, no, he can't do that," Kurt says as he climbs out of bed, searching through his closet for clean pants. "He already tried rehab, a few years ago. If anything, it made things worse. There's no way he'll go back there."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hummel-Anderson, but if you can't take him in, rehab is his only option."

Kurt breaths in deep, trying to block out images of Blaine in a hospital bed, or of Blaine with slit wrists or a gun to his own head. Unfortunately the only ways he can keep those unwelcome thoughts out are, though he has already refused the offer, where he would put Blaine if he stayed here, and how it would all work. It would make Amelia happy, certainly, and it was true that rehab was a bad place for Blaine to be, and should he take some time off work to make sure he's okay and - God, why is he even _considering this? _They're divorced - there's no way this could work. They would rip each other's throats out after a day.

"Either way," the girl continues, "he'll need you to come check him out of the hospital. It's just our policy."

"I - yes, of course. I'll be there as soon as I can," he says, and hangs up. It's not until he lets the phone drop from his hand and onto the bed that he realizes he's shaking, and he closes his eyes and breathes, steady and slow, to try to calm himself. None of it feels real yet, the fact that Blaine could have _died - _god, that he _wanted _to die _- _hasn't fully registered. It probably won't until he gets to the hospital. He'll drop Amelia off at kindergarten on the way, and - and call Rachel to pick her up and watch her for a while or something, she owes him. And he'll go see Blaine, see that he's okay and alive with his own eyes. He'll find some way he can help. Not inviting Blaine into his home, perhaps, he just doesn't know how that can _work, _but - there has to be something.

He can barely start the car with the way his hands are still shaking.

* * *

><p>Kurt will forever gag at the smell of hospitals. He'll always remember it, too, and always associate the clean, sterile smell with death. This is the third time someone he loves (or <em>has loved, <em>he corrects himself, _once loved, _when he lets himself wonder if he still loves Blaine he feels the phantom impact of a hand on his cheek and can't think about it a second longer) has been in the hospital and he knows that it won't be the last. The walk to Blaine's room, once he answer's the nurse's multitude of questions about his connection to Blaine, is like a nightmare come to life.

He finds Blaine's room, and the door is already open, but he knocks anyway, alerting the nurse fussing around the single bed in the room and the doctor, whose voice is soft and soothing as he speaks. They both block Blaine from view until the doctor turns around at the sound of the knock.

"H-hello," Kurt says, terrified for reasons he can't explain. "I'm… here to see Blaine?"

"Of course." The doctor doesn't let him in immidiately, however, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. He's taller than Kurt and a little intimidating. "You're Mr. Hummel-Anderson, I presume?"

"Just Hummel," Kurt says, mostly on instinct. "Is he…"

"He's going to be fine." Kurt feels himself relax, breathing easier already. "I'm glad you came. It's important for him to have someone to turn to at a time like this, even if he still has to go to rehab."

Kurt nods, trying to peer over the doctor's shoulder even though he knows that he'll only see the door there. "I'd like to see him."

"I'll give you a moment alone." The doctor opened the door again, finally stepping aside to let Kurt in. "Just call for the nurse when you need anything at all, Blaine."

"Yeah." Blaine's voice is small and rough. Even after the doctor leaves, Kurt lingers at the door. He has to avert his eyes as the nurse finishes wrapping fresh bandages up Blaine's arms, shuddering at the thought of what must be underneath. Blaine doesn't look at him until the nurse leaves and Kurt finds the strength to step inside.

He doesn't know what to do, what he _can _do. Should he sit down in the hard plastic chair next to Blaine's bed, or continue standing there awkwardly? And what can he possibly say that won't sound entirely condescending or unsympathetic? Not that he doesn't sympathize, but he still doesn't know how to say so. In the end, he stays standing, wringing his hands in front of him, and Blaine just watches him in silence the entire time. His eyes are glassy, with dark circles underneath, and the mint-green hospital gown they've stuck him in just makes him look thinner and sicklier. Kurt thinks he should have seen that something was wrong, at least tried to get Blaine some help before it was too late, even if he wouldn't have accepted it. Hindsight is a bitch, and he feels so, so _stupid _now.

"I'm glad you're… okay," he finally says, sounding too loud in the silent room, and it's not right, not really. Blaine isn't _okay _and he _knows _that. Blaine blinks, slowly, and he looks like he's seeing Kurt standing there for the first time.

"Why?" Blaine croaks. Kurt's mouth falls open, but no sound escapes. Blaine doesn't seem to expect an answer, finally breaking eye contact to stare out the window as though he wants to fly out through it. "You really don't have to be here."

"Of course I do. I was the only person they could track down to call, I'm not - I couldn't just leave you alone." He finally sits down. "Believe it or not, I _do _still care." Blaine doesn't reply. He picks at the corner of his bandages, stares at his arms detachedly. "You don't have to talk about it - I _get_ it, I do -"

"You don't."

"What?"

Blaine closes his eyes and draws in a breath that seems physically painful. "You don't _get it._"

"Then help me out here, Blaine. I just - I don't understand _why._"

"Yeah, no offense, but I'm not going to discuss it with you," Blaine scoffs. "We don't _talk, _remember? We never talk about anything anymore. Forgive me if I don't feel like starting now."

It hurts a lot more than it should, especially because he's right. "Is it something about me?" Kurt asks quietly. "Or - god, because of Amelia?"

"Can you please just go? I'm tired and I don't want visitors who are here just because they feel _obligated _to be." Blaine turns away, his face hidden from view. Kurt stays in his chair, fidgeting and wondering what he should do. It's not even that he feels 'obligated' to be here - except it kind of is, but not the way he thinks Blaine means. It's just -

He's the only person they could call. No one else is going to come to make sure Blaine is all right; no one else would come to check Blaine out of the hospital. He's literally the only thing Blaine has right now whether Blaine likes it or not, him and Amelia, and fuck, he doesn't even really _have _them anymore. No matter how alone Kurt has felt in the past and even recently, he's always had _someone._ Blaine never lets it show but Kurt knows that it hurts.

The same nurse returns after a few minutes with a little stack of brochures in her hand. Kurt catches a glance at one of them as she passes by, and immediately feels sick.

"I know this is probably the last thing you want to think about right now, honey," the nurse, whose nametag reads _Clara, _says gently. She reminds Kurt of Carole, a little. "But you need to start thinking about where you're going to go after you leave us. Mr. Hummel has already expressed that you can't stay with him…" She glances at him, and Kurt looks down at the floor, face flushed in unexplainable embarrassment. "Here are some brochures for local rehabilitation clinics that can help you."

Blaine takes them without a word, laying them out in front of him on the bed but obviously not really looking at them. The blank expression he wears scares Kurt more than anything. He remembers the way Blaine had looked after getting out of rehab the first time, almost disturbed somehow, and how the very first thing he'd done was drink until he literally passed out on the floor. Maybe they can help him, maybe not, but Kurt can't imagine Blaine _letting _them, complete strangers, help him.

He opens his mouth before the decision is even fully formed in his mind. "That won't be necessary," he says, leaning forward and scooping up the brochures to hand back to her. Clara raises her eyebrows, and Blaine stares up at him. He's crazy, he must be insane to go along with this - but being insane is probably better than the guilt he would face if he didn't. "I've changed my mind. Blaine will stay with me."

Clara smiles. "Well, good. In my experience the patients always recover faster when they're with their loved ones." Kurt doesn't miss the way Blaine flinches. "There will be some paperwork to fill out, but he should be fine to leave by this evening at the latest."

"Okay." Kurt takes a deep breath. He's going to have to go grocery shopping, if he'll be feeding three now, and Blaine will need some things, and - fuck, this is going to be complicated, he realizes. How long will it take them to be at each other's throats? He gives it a week, possibly less, but it will be worth it. As long as he can make sure Blaine is okay. "Um… Blaine? Should I… grab some stuff for you? From your house…?" He trails off uncertainly.

Blaine hesitates, looks like he wants to argue, but then he seems to wilt, leaning back against his pillows with a sigh. "Just… clothes and shit," he mutters. "Whatever."

"Right." Kurt stands up. "Then I'll just… I'll go get those. And then I'll come back, and we'll check you out of here and… and we'll go home."

He wishes that Blaine would stop looking at him that way he is, with that totally unreadable expression. It only cements in his mind that he doesn't _know _Blaine anymore, not really. Once upon a time, they had been able to read each other like a book, but now… now Blaine is closed to him, even more of an enigma than the first day they'd met, and he doesn't know when that happened.

"Yeah. Home." Blaine echoes. Kurt swallows and tries to force a smile, and wonders what exactly he's getting himself into.


	4. Fallen Out of Favor, Fallen From Grace

Kurt's whole body is tense during the drive, limbs stiff and movements a little too jerky. In the passenger seat, Blaine, now dressed in some of the clothes Kurt brought him, sits with his head against the window, staring straight ahead, his arms wrapped tight around himself. He hasn't spoken a word, not since Kurt came back to check him out of the hospital after dropping by Blaine's apartment to get his things (his blood still stains the bathroom sink, and Kurt had spent a good minute dry heaving at the sight), and the hardware store to buy two padlocks (one for the knife drawer, one for the medicine cabinet; he supposes Blaine could drown himself in the bathtub if he tried hard enough but at least he can get rid of a few options.) He ought to _try _to get Blaine to talk, but where to begin? He's at a loss for what to say.

"If you want to just take me back to my place, go ahead." They've spent so long in silence that Blaine's voice makes Kurt jump in his seat. He glances at Blaine, who hasn't moved or even looked at him.

"They said you need to stay with someone." Kurt argues.

"_They_ don't have to know."

"What, so you can try to do yourself in again?" Blaine doesn't even flinch, just lifts his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. If he would just show some emotion, toward anything… "No, you're coming home with me. I can't say I really like the idea either, but it's not forever, okay? Just until I know you're safe."

Blaine sits up straight, finally looking over at Kurt for the first time. "I just…" He pauses, and shakes his head. "Never mind."

"You can talk to me. It's okay."

Blaine shakes his head again. This is looking harder and harder by the minute. After a while, Blaine tries again. "I just don't understand why you would do this when I know you don't _want _me around," he blurts out in a breathless rush.

Kurt bites his lip. "I… I just want to do the right thing here," he says slowly. "If… if you got hurt and there was a chance I could stop it, but I didn't take it, I would never forgive myself."

"I wish you weren't so fucking noble," Blaine muttered.

Kurt somehow managed to crack a smile. "Yeah, well. That makes two of us." He's so distracted by the conversation that he nearly misses the turnoff to his apartment complex, but manages to make it just in time. "At least this arrangement will make Amelia happy," he murmurs, more to himself than Blaine.

A pause. "How… how is she?" Blaine almost sounds afraid to know.

Kurt's grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he thinks about the week he's had between getting his daughter back and this whole mess. She hasn't slept much, or eaten, and everything he says turns into an argument. He has no idea if that's normal for her age, but it's as if she's five going on fifteen and it's driving him mad. "She's not… happy. With me. She keeps asking to go home." He swallows. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

"She's very sensitive."

"Tell me about it." Kurt shakes his head. "It's not like I'm taking you in just so you can be a babysitter or whatever, but - well, maybe you'll be able to mellow her out. And maybe being around her will help you, too. You never know." He turns to try to smile at Blaine, but he's already curled in on himself again, refusing to look at Kurt. Kurt sighs heavily. It's clear that he's not going to get anywhere by talking about Blaine's issues. Yeah, this won't be disastrous _at all._

He pulls up behind Rachel's car, breathing a sigh of relief at the sign that Amelia got home from school safely - it's the first time this week he hasn't been there to pick her up. Kurt loads his arms up with the groceries he'd bought on the way back from Blaine's apartment, while Blaine grabs his own bags from the trunk and follows Kurt up the stairs.

When they get inside, Rachel is sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Amelia, who copies her position exactly. There are various toys strewn around them (one of her Barbie dolls is riding in a monster truck) but they aren't playing with them. Instead, they're singing together, a loud and rambunctious rendition of _Mary Had A Little Lamb, _complete with Rachel's signature show-faces, that is sure to drive the neighbors insane. Kurt sets the groceries down in the walk-in kitchen and watches them, a small smile growing on his face. When he looks over at Blaine, he's lingering by the front door as if unsure if he's allowed to be here. He stares the two girls as well, and for the first time all day he has a readable expression on his face, a strange mixture of tenderness and fear.

The song comes to an end, and Rachel says, "Flawless, Miss Amelia. You're already Broadway material."

"Just like you?" Amelia stares at her with wide eyes.

"Just like me." Rachel's hand shoots out to tickle Amelia's belly, and the child giggles and shrieks. Kurt hasn't seen her this happy much in the past week. If singing with her is the key to that, he doesn't know why he never thought of it before. He makes a mental note to sing more lullabies at bedtime.

"How are my two favorite girls?" Kurt calls out, getting their attention. Rachel smiles as she turns to face Kurt, and Amelia says, "Hi, Daddy! Auntie Rachel is teaching me how to sing!"

"I bet she is." He steps into the living room and scoops her up into a hug. She squeezes tight around his neck, and a moment later, he hears her sharp gasp.

"Papa!" She squirms out of Kurt's arms, rushing away to throw herself around Blaine's legs. "I missed you bunches."

Kurt looks back at them. Blaine's eyes are closed, and he gently strokes Amelia's wild curls as he murmurs, voice breaking, "I missed you too, sweetheart."

"Are you living with me now?"

"I… yeah I guess I am." Amelia squeals in delight and hugs him tighter, and Kurt feels sad for reasons he doesn't even want to figure out. Blaine lifts his head, meeting Rachel's eyes. "…Hey, Rachel."

"Blaine." Rachel says stiffly, still staring at Blaine in shock. She looks to Kurt, eyebrow raised.

"Hey Amelia," Kurt says, eyes still locked with Rachel's. "Why don't you show Papa to the guest room, okay? Help him unpack or something."

She grabs his hand and drags him down the hallway, her chattering growing quiet, and once Kurt hears the door to the spare bedroom open and then close behind them, he collapses on the couch. He's far more exhausted than he has any right to feel. Rachel picks herself up off the floor and plops down on the couch next to him, eyes narrowed.

"What?" He snaps.

"What exactly is going on?" She nods in the general direction of the spare room. "Did he say he's _living _with you?"

Rachel and Blaine had been good friends until the breakup, but as far as Kurt knew, they had broken contact after that, though not through any insistence on Kurt's part. Most of their mutual friends had taken Kurt's side, he realizes with a pang of guilt. He shrugs. "Just for a little while, until… he gets better," he says. Even if the bandages around his arms make things obvious, it's not his place to talk about what's wrong with Blaine, not when Blaine isn't ready to talk to anyone. "I don't think it'll be for long."

"Kurt, are you sure this is a good idea?" Her eyes are full of worry, and while he appreciates the concern, worry is the last thing he wants now. "I just… I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'd hardly let him in my house if I thought he was going to beat me up, would I?" He tries to make it sound funny even though he knows it's the farthest thing from it. It comes out bitter instead.

"To be fair, you never thought he would before." Rachel points out. Kurt scoffs and stands up, picking up the various toys that Amelia has strewn about and putting them back in her toy box (Blaine had painted it for her, ages ago, to look like a castle. She alternates between being a knight and a damsel in distress depending on her mood.) "But that's not exactly what I meant, although I know how easy it can be to slip back into a dysfunctional relationship -"

"Oh my god, you haven't even _seen _Jesse St. James since highschool, you can hardly compare -" He stops himself and shakes his head. There's no point in arguing with her, she'll only blow everything out of proportion. Well, more than usual. "It's nothing like that. I'm just helping him out. No dishonorable intentions."

"Kurt, would you please just look at me?" She pleads. He does, dropping the last of the toys in the box first. She really does look concerned, but he's not the one who _needs _concern right now. Blaine is. "I've always admired how selfless you are. It's a skill I've never managed to pick up. But you do have to think about what's best for you sometimes."

"This isn't even about me! Why is it so hard for anyone to believe that I just want to help the guy out?"

"Because you know he's going to make your life miserable, just like before. You don't _owe _him anything, Kurt."

"Damn it, Rachel -" He cuts himself off, covering his mouth with his hand as, for the first time in this long, emotional day, tears start to well up in his eyes. He doesn't even know why he's crying, it's so stupid, but everything is piling up on top of him and it's just too much. He wipes the tears away before they can fully form. "He has nowhere else to go. _Nowhere._ I'm literally the only thing he has right now. I don't know how to handle it, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here, but I'm _trying, _okay? I can't abandon him now; I just can't, and - I don't know, a little bit of support would go a long way here."

He feels Rachel's hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and then smoothing out the fabric she'd rumpled. Kurt resists the urge to sniffle and looks back at his best friend. "If you need any help at all," she says quietly.

"I know."

"Really, anything. Don't forget to take care of yourself, too. I know how you can get sometimes, when you're focused on taking care of other people."

He tries his best to force a smile, and thinks of his single-minded need to look after his father during and in the aftermath of his time in the hospital. Rachel has been around for some of the most important experiences of his life; she knows him better than just about anyone now. Once that honor would have gone to Blaine, but not anymore. "I'm just too good for my own good, I guess," he murmurs.

Rachel smiles sadly, and then leans over to kiss Kurt on the cheek before she stands up. "I should go. I'm sure having me around won't help him settle in. Call me tomorrow?"

"Of course. Thank you for helping today." He hugs her tight, and once she's out the door he takes a moment, just to sit there in the silence and not think about anything in particular and _breathe. _

Blaine and Amelia still haven't emerged from the guest room, so he goes to see what they're up to, leaning in the open doorway and watching. They're sitting on the bed, Blaine's luggage unopened on the floor in front of them, and Amelia is talking, content to sit there are chat away about what happened at school that day. Blaine nods and makes commentary every once in a while, but mostly he just listens.

He still looks at her the same way he did when they first got to meet her after she was born, like she's the most incredible thing he's ever seen.

"Is everything okay in here?" Kurt asks. He's a little nervous about leaving Blaine to sleep alone, but there are hardly any other options.

"Yeah," Blaine says softly. "Yeah, we're… fine." His voice falters on the last word, and Amelia looks up at him, brow furrowed. Even she can tell that he is the furthest thing from fine.

God, but it hurts to feel so closed off. He knows that he hasn't been the best at letting Blaine in either - hasn't wanted to - but it's like the wall between them is a tangible thing that he isn't sure how to knock down. "I was going to start on supper… are you two hungry?" Amelia nods enthusiastically, but Blaine just shrugs. "Well, if you aren't hungry I'll put the leftovers in the fridge for you. Just in case."

Blaine nods, staring up at Kurt with glassy eyes. "Thank you, Kurt," he says softly. Kurt wonders if he's saying it for more than the dinner, but chalks it up to wishful thinking. He forces himself to smile, reaching out to Amelia and wiggling his fingers in a sign for her to follow him.

"Why don't you help me with supper, Amelia? Give Papa a little space to settle in."

She nods and jumps up, taking Kurt's hand and following him down the hallway. It's only once they're in the kitchen that Amelia speaks up, her voice trembling slightly as she asks, "Daddy? What's wrong with Papa?"

Kurt closes his eyes. He knew that she would have questions, she's such a perceptive child, but that doesn't mean he's entirely prepared to answer them. He isn't prepared for any of this. He kneels down on the linoleum floor to look straight into her wide hazel eyes. "Papa is very sick right now," he says carefully. No way can he explain suicide to a five year old. "So he needs to stay here for a little while so that we can take care of him."

"Does Papa need medicine?"

"No, sweetheart." Kurt smiles. "It's not that sort of sick. It's like…" He hesitates, thinking it over. "It's like he's sick in his heart. It's making him sad. He might be sad a lot, but I want you to remember that it isn't because of anything you did, okay?"

She nods. "When will he be all better?"

"We don't know."

"Can I help?"

Kurt swallows. "You can be very, very nice to your papa. You can try your best to make him happy. Sometimes he'll need his space, and you have to give him that, too. Right now, that's all we can do."

"Okay."

He can't be sure she understands, but he thinks that his daughter knows more than she lets on sometimes. Kurt wraps her up in a tight hug, eyes closed against the tears that, for what feels like the hundredth time that day, prickle there. "I love you very much, Amelia Elizabeth," he whispers.

For the first time in days, she doesn't try to wriggle out of his arms. She hugs him back, seeming to understand the need for closeness even if she doesn't completely understand what's going on. "I know. Love you too, Daddy."

Kurt sniffs and lets her go. "How about that supper?"

Blaine doesn't emerge from the guest room, not for dinner or even once Amelia has been put to bed. Kurt is half-afraid, when he tiptoes into the room later to see if Blaine is okay, that he'll find a dead body. Instead, he finds Blaine asleep, albeit fitfully, still fully clothed and on top of the sheets, his luggage still untouched at the bedside like he's staying in a motel, like he doesn't expect to be here long.

Kurt hesitates only a moment before he steps softly inside, pulling the comforter up to Blaine's shoulders. He stirs a little, mumbles something, but doesn't wake, just burrows further into the soft bed like it's his cocoon. For a moment Kurt has the strangest urge to smooth his hair back from his forehead and press a light kiss there, the way he always used to after they had fought (and there were oh so many fights) and he made Blaine sleep on the couch for the night. He had never been able to drift off after one of the fights, not until he did that one simple thing; as if he was telling Blaine that he still loved him, even when he couldn't say it in words.

He can't anymore, of course, probably will never be able to again - and he should be over it by now, but nope, it still hurts. He leaves the room as quickly as he can and crosses the hallway to his own room, and he lays awake there for hours, willing this nightmare of a day to be over.

He can almost feel Blaine's presence in the apartment like a physical thing, like a tether between the two of them, a tether that had never truly broken.


	5. No Walls Can Keep Me Protected

When the alarm clock reads 2:00 AM, Kurt accepts that he's not going to get much sleep tonight, if any. He's not surprised - he hasn't slept well for years now, and Amelia's persistent insomnia doesn't help. There are dark circles under his eyes that no amount of product can get rid of to show for it. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself asleep one last time, but to no avail. He sits up, sighing heavily, glad that he'd opted to work from home for the next week or two. He doesn't necessarily need to work from the office anyway, and he's sure that he would send himself into a panic attack if he left Blaine alone.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and into the kitchen, yawning - and startles at the sight of Blaine with his head in the refrigerator, presumably searching for those leftovers from last night. He stands up straight when he notices Kurt, like Amelia when Kurt catches her sneaking candy.

"Couldn't sleep," Blaine says after a moment of staring at each other.

"Me either."

Blaine presses his lips into a thin line, eyes darting back and forth as if plotting an escape route. They don't speak or move for a long minute, until Kurt starts to realize how absurd it is, feeling like he can't step into his own kitchen. "Coffee?" Kurt says, more to break the silence than anything.

"Don't suppose you have a beer?"

He hasn't kept alcohol in the house since the divorce. Kurt's eyes narrow. "That isn't funny."

"Wasn't supposed to be." He shrugs. "Coffee is fine."

Kurt flicks on a light, filling the small kitchen with a yellowish glow, and sets to pulling out coffee grounds and filters while Blaine takes a seat on one of the stools at the island counters. It's a mindless, familiar task, one they had been through hundreds of times in their old kitchen. Kurt had moved out of that larger, more comfortable apartment, after the breakup - too many bad memories, and it had been too expensive for just him, and he barely ever got to see Amelia back in those days.

"How are you feeling?" Kurt asks, glancing back over his shoulder. Blaine's shoulders are hunched, tense all over.

"Really?"

"Um. Yes?" Kurt frowns.

"Like shit, to put it bluntly."

"…right." Kurt flinches and turns back to the coffee maker, as if staring at it will make the water boil faster. He really hadn't thought this through, what living with Blaine again would be like. Is he always going to be this defensive? Because Kurt isn't sure if he can handle it if that's the case. "Forgive me for being concerned."

Blaine doesn't reply, and this time Kurt lets them fall into silence as he fixes their coffees (he doesn't bother to ask how Blaine takes it, it's a fact that remains etched into his memory). He slides Blaine's mug across the table toward him, and Blaine wraps his fingers around it but doesn't drink yet. Kurt can't keep his eyes off Blaine's wrists, still wrapped in white bandages. How many cuts hide under there? He wonders. The thought of Blaine taking a razor blade to his own skin makes Kurt shiver, so he averts his eyes, taking a gulp of his still-too-hot coffee.

Blaine finally breaks the silence, to Kurt's surprise. He looks up from his mug, which he had been staring into as if it held the answers to all of life's mysteries. "How long am I going to have to stay here?"

He makes it sound like Kurt is imprisoning him. From his point of view, it might be that way. "Until you're better, I guess."

"I'm not _sick._" Blaine's jaw clenches. "You can't just - just pump me up with vitamins or make me drink gallons of herbal tea and hope it works."

"I can try." Kurt quips. Blaine only huffs. "Until you aren't in danger, then."

"What if I promise never to do it again?"

"Jesus, Blaine, is my company really _that_ unbearable?" He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Snapping at Blaine won't help a thing. "Look, I understand. I really do. You're hurting, and you're perfectly entitled to feel that way -"

Blaine makes to slam his open palm on the countertop, but stops and clenches his fist instead. "Would you just - stop trying to fucking _empathize _with me, you don't know what I'm feeling and -"

"We're only going to be stuck together longer if you blow up at me every time I try to talk to you!" It's only with great restraint that Kurt manages not to yell. "Stop being so damn defensive."

"Stop acting like you know me."

"I _do _know you."

Blaine shakes his head and turns away. Kurt can't tell if the shine in his eyes is from the dim lamplight or something more. "No you don't."

Kurt opens his mouth, but he doesn't have time to think of a reply before he hears a voice behind him mumble, "Daddy?"

He turns around. Amelia stands in the entrance to the kitchen, clutching her favorite stuffed toy giraffe to her chest and rubbing sleep from her eyes with the back of her fists. Kurt takes a deep breath to calm himself. "Sweetheart, you should be sleeping. You have school in the morning."

She wanders into the kitchen, leaning up against his leg and closing her eyes. Kurt absently strokes a lock of her tangled hair. "I can't sleep." She says.

Kurt sighs. It's the same routine almost every night - no wonder they're always cranky with each other. "You have to try."

"I can't." She lets Kurt stroke her hair for another moment before she goes to Blaine instead, and he immediately scoops her up and lets her snuggle into his lap - which she's a little old for, but she's also small for her age.

Kurt looks at Blaine and shrugs helplessly. "I've tried everything; she just can't sleep through the night." He doesn't add that this had never happened when she was living with Blaine - they both know. He thought that after she got used to the new routine things would change, but no. Kurt wants to scream with the injustice of it, that she was happier with a dysfunctional parent than a stable one. Things were supposed to change when he got her back, and they certainly had, but he can't tell if it's for the better.

"Why's that, babydoll?" Blaine asks gently, his demeanor shifting from one minute to the next. Kurt can't tell if he's putting on a persona for her or if she just has a soothing effect on him. "Bad dreams?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. Sometimes."

Blaine kisses the top of her head. "Hop up, I know just the thing." She does, wandering back to Kurt now that she doesn't have a lap on which to perch. Kurt watches in silence as Blaine heats up one of her sippy-cups (only used when she takes a drink to bed with her) full of milk and drizzles it with a bit of honey (and Kurt can't help but recall a memory of '_warm milk? Really?' _that makes him want to tease Blaine and it hurts far too much that he can't.) She takes it eagerly, mumbling, "Thanks, Papa," around the cup as she drinks.

"Let's get you tucked back in, okay?" Blaine takes her hand and leads her away, and she calls out 'goodnight, Daddy' over her shoulder as they go.

Kurt stays in the kitchen even when Blaine lingers in Amelia's room, staring into his coffee mug without taking a drink. Blaine knows their daughter so well, better than Kurt does anymore. When did that happen, and why does it make him so bitter? He of all people should have known that warm milk would help her settle - or if anything, she should have been able to tell him so. He sighs and slumps against the counter, miserable for any number of stupid reasons, not to mention exhausted. If only warm milk was all it took for him.

Blaine comes back after a little while, his socked feet padding softly on the carpet. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, which he never did change out of, and his shoulders are still that little bit hunched.

"It worked, she passed right out," he said, staring down at his shifting feet. "I didn't know if it would, but… lucky guess."

"Thank you," Kurt says, and he means it.

Blaine bites his lip and nods. "I'm… sorry. Shouldn't have snapped at you." He mumbles.

"It doesn't matter."

"I just - pet peeve, I guess, when people… act like they understand when they just can't."

Kurt leans back against the counter. "Did you know that I wanted to die, before I met you?" Blaine finally lifts his head, eyes wide. Kurt takes it as a cue to continue. "It was when the bullying at school was at its worst. I think I knew how bad I was getting when I started to think of it as like - a solution to everything, like, if things get any worse than they are, I can just kill myself. And no one noticed, or if they did they didn't care." Blaine's mouth fell open slightly, blinking as he absorbed the information. Kurt takes in a harsh breath - it had been a long, long time since he had reminisced about this. "The day before we met, I remember thinking about it all day long, how I would do it. I was going to take my dad's pain meds and just… fall asleep."

"Why didn't you?" Blaine asks. He sounds almost afraid to know.

"You." Kurt can't help but smile, just a little, at the look of surprise on Blaine's face. "You reached out, and you took my hand, and… you were something new. Then you started texting me and… I decided to stick around a little while longer." He shrugs. "I had to wait for the next text. And then, even after all the bullshit with Dave, and everything - I at least had those texts back and forth with you to look forward to."

Blaine lets out a breath that Kurt hadn't realized he was even holding. "I… I never knew."

"I've never told anyone." Somehow, it's a weight off his chest, even though he's long been over it and hasn't had thoughts of suicide since - one of the last things he'd never told Blaine, finally out in the open. It had seemed too personal to share at the time, and later too _big, _telling his highschool boyfriend that he'd saved his life. Later still, it hadn't mattered so much - just one more struggle he was stronger for overcoming, one he was okay with keeping to himself. For Kurt it was a phase, a result of his environment, but he knows that it's not like that for everyone. "So no, I don't understand your personal situation - no one can but you - but I _can _empathize, Blaine."

"I said sorry."

"And I said it's okay." He sighs heavily. "We just - if we're going to get through this we can't blow up at every little thing. We have to be able to tolerate each other's company, at least."

"It's hard… to control, sometimes. I get so pissed off and I lash out and…" He wraps his arms around himself, a familiar defensive pose. "Fuck, I really need a drink."

"Absolutely not." Blaine is an adult, and he can make his own decisions, but there is no way Kurt is letting any alcohol into this house. "I can't control what you do when you go home, but while you're here, no drinking."

"That's - that's not - but -"

"You do realize that you have a problem, right? Rehab didn't help you, so… I will. No drinking."

Blaine rubs his eyes. "I can't just quit cold turkey."

"Well, that is exactly what you're going to do."

"You fucking suck."

Kurt closes his eyes, slumping back against the counter, his grip on his coffee mug dangerously tight. And here he thought that, for a moment, they were coming to some kind of understanding. "That's okay," he says, and even to his own ears, he sounds exhausted. "If being the villain here is what it takes to get you better, then I suppose I'll have to be the villain." On the inside, he laughs at the tiny part of him that had imagined Blaine being gracious and grateful about the whole situation. As if. It's going to be a battle, one he's not sure he's equipped for.

"I'm going to bed," Blaine mutters, putting his coffee mug in the sink with more force than necessary and stalking away. It's just like when they were married and fought constantly, but refused to talk about it later - it gives him the same horrible feeling in his gut, anyway. Kurt feels his throat tighten up, but he doesn't allow himself to cry. He has to learn to have a thicker skin when it comes to these things.

Kurt stays there until the sun makes its first appearance out the window, beginning to bath the apartment in its faint orange glow. He'll have to take Amelia to school before too long, and if Blaine doesn't stay in bed all day there will be him to deal with - but for now, he lets himself have this tiny moment of peace before he re-enters the battlefield.


	6. Call Me Anything You Want

"Thank you so much for coming," Kurt says, a little out of breath as he opens the door and steps aside. He had been a whirlwind cleaning machine just moments ago, clearing away the catastrophe that was trying to get Amelia to eat her breakfast before school (always a losing battle), and is more than a little embarrassed to answer the door still in his casual working-at-home clothes. At least he had a chance to do his hair.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all." She steps inside and looks around the kitchen and living room - not judging, just curious.

The therapist is younger than he expected, coming to about his height in her sensible heels. She is blonde with a cute bob cut that suits her round face, a tiny button nose and wide brown eyes, and she and reminds him, just a little, of Quinn (or the Quinn he knew in highschool; she had vanished soon after graduation, and he isn't sure if any of his old friends have seen her since.) She smiles and sticks out her hand for Kurt to shake. "You must be Mr. Hummel?" He nods, thankful that someone left off the '-Anderson' for once. She introduces herself as Naomi McKay, though of course he already knows who she is.

"I know it's probably a hassle to make house calls," he says apologetically, leading her into the living room and scooping up toys that he'd missed as he goes. "But I know for a fact that Blaine would never go to an appointment unless forced to."

She waves him off. "Really, don't worry about that. It's my job."

"Thank you," he says again. "Um, I'm afraid Blaine hasn't surfaced yet…" He had told Blaine to be awake and dressed by nine o'clock, which Blaine had obviously ignored, but hadn't mentioned that it was for an appointment.

"That's okay! I actually was wondering if I could talk to you first," Naomi says, sitting down in a chair that Kurt gestures to and smoothing out her plain charcoal gray skirt that really doesn't suit her petite form. Kurt blinks and sits down, too, sinking into the over-soft couch. "Patients don't open up easily, especially not during the first meeting - most especially not in a situation where someone else has to call a shrink for them - so it would be nice to get a little background info on Blaine. You don't have to answer anything you don't feel comfortable with, of course," she assures him.

"I already told you his symptoms over the phone," Kurt says cautiously, though he doesn't like that work, _symptom_. It makes it sound like Blaine has the flu or something else easily cured.

"Yes, I know - insomnia, loss of appetite, everything you described to me is textbook depression. But that doesn't necessarily say anything about the patient himself."

Kurt nods slowly. "I suppose that would be fine." He can't control his unease, though - he's not used to talking about Blaine with anyone, especially strangers. He even changes the subject when Rachel brings it up. Where to even begin?

Naomi pulls a notepad and pen out of her little black briefcase, poised to take notes. "How long have you known each other?"

"Since I was seventeen. We were highschool sweethearts," he answers. A little smile quirks at the edge of Naomi's lips.

"Did he display signs of depression even then?"

Kurt starts to shake his head, but realizes that he doesn't know. He had never thought about it then. He was just… _Blaine. _Bouncy, puppy-like, always positive Blaine, and yeah, he had issues like everyone did, and the tears that sprung to his eyes when Kurt said that he was proud of him had been baffling, but Kurt didn't connect it to depression. Now he wonders if he should have, the thought making his insides clench up with guilt.

"No," he finally says. "Not that I'm aware of, anyway. I mean, if he ever was depressed before recently it wasn't diagnosed."

Naomi nods and scribbles something down. "And you've been together ever since?"

Kurt shrugs. There was a brief breakup, when Blaine had stayed in Ohio while Kurt went to New York, but that was it, until the divorce. "And married for about six years. Until we split up two years ago."

Another nod and a sympathetic look that makes Kurt irrationally irritated. "It's good of you to take him in like this, most people wouldn't."

"What else could I have done? He doesn't have anyone else."

"So, no family?"

"No." Kurt swallows. "No, he - when he told his parents that we were getting married, they… they disowned him." It still hurts to think about, still makes him ache to think about the look on Blaine's face when he found out - sometimes he still can't believe it even _happened, _because god, who could do that? What parent could tell their child that he was no longer theirs, just because of whom he loved? He can't even imagine treating Amelia that way, no matter what she does in life; it literally makes him sick to his stomach. "Hasn't heard from them since."

Naomi doesn't show her feelings about this if she has any at all; Kurt supposes that she must be desensitized to it, accustomed to hearing horrible things every day. Her brow furrows and she nods, jotting something down on her notepad. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"And that's, well, when the drinking started." Kurt waves his hand, as if trying to pretend that this isn't a big deal even though it is. Naomi takes a note. "I mean, not that he never drank, but I wouldn't say he was at all addicted before that. It wasn't even bad at first, I mean - it didn't seem like a big deal, that he was drinking more often. But it kept getting worse, and I didn't know what to do. I kind of thought that things would change after we had our daughter, Amelia, but… obviously not."

"Can I ask why you decided to separate?"

Any warmth he had felt toward her vanishes. "No, you may not," he says, a little more coldly than necessary. Rachel and his immediate family know what happened, but that's all (assuming, of course, that Blaine doesn't talk about it, but he hasn't done so with Kurt.) He's content, determined in fact, to keep it that way.

It's not that he's ashamed, exactly; he just… doesn't know what to think, so he prefers not to try. He's kept himself too busy to dwell on that for the past two years, despite Rachel's insistence that it's unhealthy to keep something like that locked inside.

He's not an idiot. He's knows that he didn't _deserve _to be hit, that it wasn't anyone's fault but Blaine's - so he doesn't know why his family treats him like some fragile thing when the subject is brought up. Maybe that's why he doesn't talk about it.

Naomi takes the hint, to his relief, and before she can ask him anything else, Kurt hears footsteps a few feet away and turns his head. Blaine stands in the entrance to the living room, still in his pajamas and rubbing sleep from his eyes. He has a day or two's worth of stubble covering his jaw. He looks at Naomi, head tilted to the side, and then at Kurt.

Naomi smiles and stands up, grabbing Blaine's hand to shake it. "You're Blaine, right? It's good to meet you."

"Uh, you too?" Blaine looks at Kurt helplessly. "Sorry, who are you?"

Kurt stands up. "This is Dr. Naomi McKay, Blaine. She's your… therapist."

Blaine's expression hardens, his eyes narrowing as he snatches his hand away. "No."

Naomi's face falls. "She just wants to talk to you, Blaine. Give her a chance," Kurt pleads.

"I don't need a _therapist_," he says, like it's something to be ashamed of. "Sorry for wasting your time, doctor."

Kurt plasters on a smile and steps next to Blaine. "Would you excuse us for a moment?" He doesn't wait for a response before he grabs Blaine by the arm and drags him down to the end of the hallway - it's probably not out of earshot, but Blaine is struggling against him, so Kurt releases him.

"I seriously cannot believe you," Blaine hisses. "You called me a freaking shrink?"

"It's for your own good," Kurt snaps. "It's been three days, Blaine. You've barely even come out of that room, I haven't seen you eat anything but that salad the other night, and you haven't spoken to anyone but Amelia."

"I don't need -"

"Yes you do. You _have _to talk to someone, Blaine, and you've clearly shown that that person won't be me. I honestly don't care who it is, but you're not going to take the initiative, so I had to."

Blaine rubs his eyes again. Kurt feels a little bad, springing this on him before he's even had a cup of coffee. "I don't want to talk to anyone," he says, and this time Kurt can tell he's actively trying to be calm. That's something, at least. "Can't I just - work this out on my own?"

"You've had years to do that, Blaine, and you didn't even try. I won't make you keep going to her, but just try it out for a few sessions. Maybe it won't work for you, but who knows? You might even like it." Blaine scoffs and looks away. "Look - if you won't do this for yourself, do it for Amelia."

It's low, he knows it, but Kurt is desperate by now. Blaine's brow furrows in confusion. "Amelia?"

"She needs her father. And you can't be that to her unless you get better. The first step is talking to someone."

It takes a while, but finally Blaine nods, though there is tightness in the set of his jaw, and Kurt can tell he's refraining from saying something hurtful. "Just this once."

Kurt was hoping for more, but he'll take it. "Thank you." He says softly. Blaine's only answer is a half-hearted grumble.

He leads a sullen Blaine back to the living room, where Naomi is waiting. The corners of her eyes crinkle when she smiles up at him, as Blaine sits down on the couch across from her with a heavy thump, arms still crossed and a permanent scowl etched into his features. He looks at Naomi like he's challenging her, but she doesn't seem fazed.

"I'll be in my office," Kurt says - it's really his bedroom, but calling it the office makes him feel more motivated to get work done instead of reorganizing his wardrobe for the hundredth time. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel." Naomi beams up at him. "I'm sure we'll be fine."

Kurt gives them their privacy, retreating to his bedroom to start a long day of answering emails - honestly, the only bad thing about working from home for a while, besides going insane with only these walls to stare at, is that his co-workers have no idea what they're doing without him. Especially with the fresh batch of interns they have now… it's absurd. He starts up his computer, starting a doodle that might end up being a new design in his sketchbook while he waits.

"So, Blaine."

Kurt freezes. It's Naomi's voice, slightly muffled by distance but still clear enough - he had forgotten that he could hear every sound through these thin walls. Useful for leaving Amelia to play alone for a minute, but a curse now.

"What am I supposed to do here? Do you want me to talk about my daddy issues? All the traumatic experiences of my childhood?" Blaine's voice is harsh and sarcastic. The computer finishes starting up, but Kurt leaves it at the log-in screen. He really shouldn't be listening to this - it's private, just between Blaine and his psychiatrist, and god knows Blaine would throw a fit, refuse to see her again, and regress even further if he ever found out.

But he can't deny that he wants to know what they're talking about. Without eavesdropping, he might not ever know - it's not like Blaine is forthcoming with his feelings these days. Kurt turns back to his computer, trying to focus on emails and his co-workers inane questions, but when the voices start again, he can't help but keep one ear open. He can't help Blaine if he doesn't know what's wrong, he tells himself.

"If you like," Naomi says. "Is that what _you_ want to talk about?"

"I don't want to talk about _anything_. Kurt didn't ask if I wanted a shrink. I have no obligation to talk to you."

So much for giving it a try, Kurt thinks, rolling his eyes.

"You're right - you don't have to talk. I can't make you." Naomi agrees. "But I think you need to. Maybe you even want to. So, what about those daddy issues?" There's a playful lilt to her voice. To Kurt's surprise, Blaine barks out a laugh.

"Well, plenty of those."

"I hear he disowned you."

"Did Kurt tell you that?"

"Mmhm."

"Nosy." He doesn't sound angry like Kurt expects. It's not that Blaine's issues with his parents are a secret, but he'd figured that Blaine wouldn't appreciate Kurt talking about his personal life now that they aren't together. "Yeah, he disowned me. About six years ago, now. That doesn't have anything to do with _this_."

"But it does have to do with your drinking problem, doesn't it? You would be surprised at what triggers depression."

"I'm not depressed." Blaine says, too quickly.

"You tried to kill yourself. It's my job to recognize depression, Blaine, and I think I already have my diagnosis." There is no reply from Blaine, not that Kurt can hear, though he strains to listen, his email now forgotten, sketchbook and pencils limp in his hands. Naomi says softly, "It's okay to need help, Blaine."

"I _don't_. Need _help._" Blaine says, and his voice sounds rough and strange in a way Kurt can't pinpoint.

"Okay. Let's not waste our time together, though. Is there anything at all you do want to talk about?"

"No."

Naomi doesn't give in. Kurt admires her for it, her ability to keep pushing without seeming forceful. "What about your daughter?" She prompts. "Amelia, right? Tell me about her."

Kurt smiles. If nothing else, she has intuition - when Blaine starts bragging about Amelia, it's hard to get him to shut up; he's the sort of parent who shows off pictures of his kid to everyone he meets.

"Um…" Blaine trails off. "She just turned five, a few months ago. She looks a lot like me, I guess. She… she makes up these incredible stories, just off the top of her head. I think she has more imaginary friends than real ones."

"She sounds like a wonderful girl."

"She is." Kurt can almost _hear_ the smile on Blaine's face, soft, as if he isn't even aware that he's smiling. "She definitely deserves a better dad than me."

"What about Kurt?" Kurt sucks in a sharp breath at the sound of his name. What Blaine thinks of him now is still an utter mystery. He's always so angry when Kurt tries to talk to him, but sometimes he'll catch Blaine looking, and there will be a look of unfathomable _sadness _in his eyes that Kurt doesn't know what to do with.

"Kurt would be a great dad if -" Blaine stops and starts over. "I mean, he _is_ a great dad. He fought so hard to get her back; he loves her so much, but I don't think he really… _understands _her. Maybe if I hadn't kept her from him for so long…"

"Why did you do that?"

The pause stretches on, and Kurt holds his breath for every moment of it. He had never asked _why, _wondered at a deeper reason behind Blaine's actions - too upset, too angry, too fucked up to think about another person's feelings, even those of the man he loved (_had loved, _he reminded himself, absently lifting a hand to his cheek as if to rub away the phantom sting of a backhanded slap.) He was not proud of those first six months after the breakup, spent either working too hard, sitting around asking himself where he went wrong (the answer was always that it was entirely his fault or entirely Blaine's; Kurt never claimed to be particularly reasonable), and avoiding Rachel's probing questions. And missing Amelia, until he managed to get visitation.

But that was the difference between him and Blaine. Kurt had had his period of being utterly pathetic, and then, while he had never stopped being sad and angry and hurt, he had at least learned to fill up the hours with practical things so that he didn't have time to think about it. Eventually the pain of heartbreak had faded to an ever-present, dull ache, a bruise that flared up from time to time if he poked and prodded at it, but could be otherwise ignored.

Blaine had never moved past the excuse for living that was those first six months.

"Because… she was the only thing I had left," Blaine says, so soft that Kurt isn't sure he heard right at first. "Her and the booze. I know that - that she would have been better off with Kurt, I _knew _that, but. I've pushed everyone else I ever cared about away from me. I couldn't lose her too." He gives a shaky laugh. "Guess I lost her anyway, though. Fucking stupid."

"It's not too late to get her back, you know." Naomi said. "You would have to work very hard to get better, and prove yourself to be a fit parent, but I don't think there's any reason you couldn't still see her, after you go back home."

"…How do you do that?" There is a hint of amusement in Blaine's voice, though he doesn't laugh. "I came in here refusing to talk at all and suddenly I'm spilling everything. You didn't cast a spell on me, did you?"

She does laugh, musical and mischievous. "Part of why I'm so good at my job. I'm easy to talk to, or so they say."

"I'll give you that. But I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Okay. Our time is just about up, anyway." Kurt's shoulders slump in disappointment - _so close. _Still, she had gotten him to talk for the first time in days without blindly lashing out. He had always known that this wouldn't be fixed overnight. It's a start - if Blaine will agree to keep seeing her. "You're under no obligation, of course, but I would like to see you again, Blaine. Here, or at my office, or some other neutral territory - anywhere you're comfortable. You can set up an appointment anytime - my schedule is always open. What do you say?"

"I…" Blaine hesitates. Kurt wishes that he could see Blaine's face, or read his mind. Finally, he answers, so soft that Kurt barely hears. "I just, I don't know."

"That's okay, too. You don't have to decide now. Give me a call?" There is no answer, but Kurt assumes that Blaine either nods or shakes his head, because he hears the sound of Naomi's heels on the floor as she walks. She says goodbye to Blaine, and the door shuts behind her.

Kurt does manage to get back to work, then, shaking his head to clear it - if he chooses to dwell on anything he just heard, it will be later when the guilt he should feel from eavesdropping has wormed its way up to the surface - and forcing himself to answer emails. He only looks up from his computer or sketchpad, where a design for a flashy yet elegant suit is beginning to take shape as he scribbles between emails downloading, when he hears his door squeak open. Blaine doesn't enter, but lingers just outside the threshold.

"She seems like a sweet girl," Kurt says. Blaine lifts one shoulder in a lame excuse for a shrug. "How did it go?" His voice is high and too innocent, and he winces. If Blaine notices or suspects that Kurt had been listening, he doesn't let it show.

"It was… something." Blaine says vaguely. "I don't know."

"Do you think you'll give her another chance?" He doesn't want to push too hard all in one day - that will only make Blaine resist help even more. But he hopes that Blaine will at least consider.

Blaine leans against the doorframe. "It sucks. That you called her here without talking to me first. I don't want a shrink - like I'm fucking _crazy._"

"You wouldn't have agreed if I had. Or _let _me talk to you, for that matter." For the past three days, the only words Blaine had spoken to Kurt had been to do with Amelia - other than that, all of Kurt's prompts were met with untranslatable mumbles at best, and blatantly ignored at worst.

Never in his life had he met someone so resistant to help. It was just as strange as it was frustrating - because that wasn't like Blaine. Yes, he preferred to solve his problems on his own when he could, but he had never been like this.

"You didn't answer my question," Kurt said. "Will you make another appointment?"

Blaine let out a long, slow breath. "I might. Don't ask me for more than that."

Kurt nods. It's not much, but it's more than they had before. "I know it had to be hard, but I'm proud of you for giving it a try." He even means it. Blaine could have walked out, but he had at least sat down with that stranger for an hour, at least made a start. It gives Kurt hope.

"Yeah, well." Blaine shifts around. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands without pockets to hide them in, and leaves them hanging limp at his side instead. "Don't get used to it."

He doesn't wait for an answer, leaving as suddenly as he'd appeared.


	7. This Is A Gift

**A/N: **A little interlude while I try to figure out the next chapter. Yay, babies!

* * *

><p><em>Blaine has been laughing at the old sitcom on TV for ten straight minutes, but Kurt couldn't tell you what the joke was, just that he's glad to hear Blaine so delighted for once. He's lost in his own mind, in daydreams and half-formed hopes.<em>

"_Blaine, can we talk about something?" He hadn't planned bringing it up so soon, but now that he's blurted it out, he realizes it's as good a time as any. Things are quiet and calm tonight - and Blaine isn't drinking. They both need clear heads for this discussion, one that will - he hopes - change their lives. Kurt feels his heart speed up with nerves._

"_Yeah, of course." Blaine sits up from where he's nestled in the crook of Kurt's arm to reach for the remote and turns off the television. He turns to face Kurt and pulls his legs up underneath him on the couch, watches Kurt with wary eyes. "Is something wrong?"_

"_No, no. Well, I hope not." Kurt copies Blaine's pose and reaches out to grip his hand. Blaine's thumb traces over the knobs of Kurt's knuckles, eyes wide, bright, and best of all _aware _as he waits for Kurt to collect his thoughts. "We - we're married now. We both have jobs, we're financially stable, we live in an okay neighborhood…"_

_Blaine nods, still silent._

"_I thought… maybe, if we're both ready for it - and you can absolutely say no, if you don't think we are, this needs to be an equal decision -"_

"_Kurt." Blaine says, voice soft and soothing. Kurt takes a deep breath._

"_I wondered if we might be ready for… our family to get a little bigger." He meets Blaine's eyes. They had talked about this before, but only in abstract - enough to know that it was something that they wanted, someday. Never anything definite. They haven't made plans, or even talked about whether they want a boy or a girl (Kurt, for one, doesn't have a preference; he can design the most fabulous onesies the world has ever seen for either gender.)_

"_A… baby?" Blaine breathes, hesitant, as if afraid that this will be snatched away from him._

"_Is that something you want?" He has to confirm it._

"_God, yes, of course. Do you -?"_

"_I do, I really do. I think we're ready for it." _

_A smile spreads across Blaine's face, and he nods, eyes shining with what Kurt thinks are unshed tears. "Yeah. Me too."_

_Kurt laughs, a little hysterically - he's terrified, but overwhelmingly happy. "Okay."_

"_We're going to be dads." Blaine says, as if trying to convince himself that it's actually happening. Kurt squeezes his hand tighter. It's so good to see Blaine happy, really, truly _happy.

"_You're going to be the most amazing dad," Kurt whispers. He leans forward and kisses his husband, as if to seal the deal, and when they pull apart Blaine still holds him close, head pressed into the crook of his neck. There is so much more to discuss, they both know it, but there's plenty of time for that. "I love you so much."_

_Blaine hums, leaning up to kiss Kurt again. "Well, if we want a baby," he mumbles between quick but deep kisses, grinning against Kurt's lips. "We'd better get started on making one, don't you think?"_

"_You do know the basics of the reproductive system, right? You're not _that _gay." Kurt laughs._

"_Hey, we can sure as hell try." He grabs Kurt's hand and pulls him toward their bedroom, laughing all the way._

* * *

><p><em>The adoption process is hard, of course, and exhausting, and it's taking them a lot longer than expected to find a surrogate mother (they had talked for ages about it, and decided that a baby with either of their genes would mean a lot to them.) Kurt hasn't given up hope, and neither has Blaine, but Kurt can tell that the time it's taking for this to happen is getting to Blaine.<em>

_Wandering into the apartment at night to find Blaine drinking isn't uncommon, these days, but Kurt knows that something is wrong - he doesn't know _how _he knows, but he's been with Blaine long enough that he can just tell. He sits down next to Blaine on the couch, where there are empty beer bottles all around. "What is it?" He asks. Blaine's eyes are rimmed with red as he looks at the half-empty bottle in his hand. He shakes his head. "Blaine, don't shut me out. Please talk to me." He takes the bottle from Blaine's hand and sets it aside, taking Blaine's hands in his and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Talk to me."_

"_It's stupid," Blaine croaks._

"_Blaine, please."_

_Blaine shakes his head again, but answers anyway. "What if I end up like my dad?" He whispers._

_Kurt blinks at him, stares at him. "What if I'm as awful a father as mine was, what if - what if our baby ends up like _me? _What if our marriage is like theirs and you end up hating me?_" _His voice is slurred from the alcohol, but clear enough to understand. It's not often that they talk about Blaine's family._

"_You won't," Kurt insists, his grip on Blaine's hands tightening. "You _won't, _Blaine, none of that is going to happen."_

"_What if it does? It's inevitable, right? That we end up like our parents?"_

_Kurt shakes his head. "No. I'm nothing like my dad, am I?"_

_Blaine's breath shudders. "You're kind and compassionate and smart and _good," _he says. "And Burt always says you're just like your mom."_

_Another shake of his head, but he understands Blaine's point. Not that he ended up the same person as his father, but that he adopted the traits that were drummed into him all his life. "You," Kurt says firmly. "Are nothing like your dad, or your mom. You're so _good, _Blaine, you're going to be the most amazing father. And if you start acting like that asshole then you have me to straighten you out, right?"_

_Blaine makes an unintelligible noise and leans against Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt immediately wraps his arms around Blaine and holds him tight. "'m sorry," he mumbles. _

"_Hush, now." Kurt whispers, kissing the top of his head. "It's okay. You're okay." He looks around at the empty bottles and sighs. "I don't know why you do this to yourself; you know you always end up miserable when you drink."_

"_I'm trying to stop." Blaine insists. Kurt raises his eyebrows. It sure doesn't look like it. "I am, I swear, just - I can't talk about that right now." _

_Kurt drops it, for now, snuggling closer and cradling Blaine in his arms. He's not used to this - Blaine drinks, too often, and Blaine makes himself miserable, but things like _this _don't happen often. Times when Blaine upsets himself so much that only Kurt can calm him down again._

_And_ _most of the time, he doesn't know how to bring Blaine back to himself. All he knows how to do is soothe, and comfort, and be with him, and hope that it's enough._

_Blaine doesn't bring it up again, and neither does Kurt, but he lays awake for a long time when they go to bed and Blaine finally falls asleep, looking into his husband's face and worrying, always worrying and never able to do a damn thing about it._

* * *

><p><em>The baby girl has a tuft of thin, dark hair on the top of her head, and the face peeking out of the bundle of pink blankets she is wrapped in (Kurt, while he doesn't complain, doesn't appreciate the gender stereotype automatically placed on her at birth, and hopes that she appreciates the purple and yellow nursery waiting for her back home) is tiny and wrinkled and bright red from the force she puts into wailing.<em> _She looks quite indignant to have been dragged into the world at all._

_She is the most wonderful thing Kurt has ever seen since meeting Blaine on that staircase._

"_Would you like to hold her?" The nurse asks, holding her out to Kurt. He takes her automatically, cradling her too-big head. Her tears have dissolved into occasional whimpers, now. She's so light and small and breakable and Kurt is almost afraid to be holding her._

"_Hi," he whispers, shifting her gently in his arms so that he can touch her chubby little cheek with the tip of his finger. She blinks with huge blue eyes that will probably turn to hazel eventually and gives a halfhearted whimper. "Hi, beautiful. I guess I'm your daddy."_

"_Does that make me Papa?" Blaine asks, sounding amused. Kurt grins and nods, liking the sound of that. The nurse makes herself scarce, but neither of them really pay attention._

"_Oh, Blaine, look at her." He breathes. He feels arms wrap around his waist from behind, Blaine's chin hooking over his shoulder as he peers down at his daughter. _

"_Welcome to the world," he says softly. Amelia - Kurt decides, though she hardly looks like a human being at all yet - grunts. "You'll get used to it after a while."_

"_She has your nose," Kurt says, though she really has the same little button nose that most babies have. He wants her to look like Blaine, though, wide-eyed curly-haired and perfect. Blaine hums, reaching around Kurt to stroke the hair on top of her head._

_Neither of them speaks for a long time, watching as Amelia's eyes drift shut and she falls asleep. Kurt hears Blaine's breathing shift behind him, and twists his head around to see a tear trickling down his husband's cheek._

"_Blaine? What's wrong?" Kurt asks, feeling a tiny spark of panic in his chest. Blaine sniffles and shakes his head, smiling._

"_Nothing," he says. "Nothing's wrong. I'm so _happy_." And Kurt smiles too, because moments of happiness come rarely for Blaine these days. Maybe this will make it all better._

_Kurt leans back against Blaine's chest with a sigh. He can't remember being this terrified in all his life, so scared that he won't do right by her, that he'll ruin this. Nevertheless, there's hope, too, and pure unbridled joy. He wasn't sure, he realizes, until this moment, that this was what he wanted, but now that she's here, he knows why people choose to do this. This is what was missing, what he wants. He loves her suddenly and overwhelmingly, though she doesn't even know him yet, and he makes the promise to himself to tell her so every day of her life._

"_I love you," Blaine says after a while of silence - not specifying to whom he's speaking, but Kurt decides to take it to mean the both of them. Kurt turns his head to kiss the side of Blaine's neck in place of words. "You're going to be the best dad in the word." _

"_So are you," Kurt insists. Blaine doesn't answer, his grip around Kurt's waist tightening. They stand in the nursery for a long time as the nurse goes about her duties, but Kurt's world has narrowed to the three of them, his family that has suddenly gotten a little bigger._

_This, he decides, is going to make everything okay._


	8. Atlas Was a Beast of Burden

__**A/N: **I'm not entirely happy with this, but I'm also sick of wrestling with it. I promise more interesting things will happen soon!

* * *

><p><em>The wind whips around them, blowing Kurt's hair in front of his face and blinding him for a moment. It doesn't affect Blaine - he stands, unmoving, staring out at the city below<em>

"_Blaine?" He knows that he's speaking, but no sound comes out, no matter how he tries. This is his balcony, he realizes, but huge, and it's like they're suspended in midair, far higher above New York City than the third-story apartment he lives in. Blaine shoots a glance back at him. He's dressed in that awful pale green hospital gown and nothing else. _

_He looks away from Kurt and steps up onto the railing, balancing on his bare feet. Kurt gasps and tries to lurch forward, but he's stuck, trapped. _

"_Help me, Kurt," Blaine says, wobbling on the thin railing but not falling. "Save me."_

"_How?"_ _Again, no sound. "Blaine!"_

"_Why won't you help me?" He doesn't wait for a reply, watching Kurt with dark, sad eyes, before he closes them and raises his bandaged arms, like he's about to fly -_

Kurt wakes up with a strangled gasp; heart pounding like it wants to leap out of his chest. He knows immediately where he is - in his bedroom, with Blaine safe across the hall and Amelia on the other side of the wall - and knows that it was only a dream, but god, it was so _vivid. _He can still feel the stiffness in his bones from being unable to move.

He shoves the too-hot, tangled blankets off his chest and sits up, looking at the clock. 4:30 AM. Great. He falls back onto the bed with a soft thump. He's covered in a thin layer of sweat from head to toe, the blankets twisted around his legs and his heart just won't stop _pounding._

When he tries to close his eyes, he's right back on the balcony again, and his eyes shoot open, throat suddenly dry.

"Just a dream," he mutters, voice shaking, and it almost shocks him when the sound manages to leave his lips. It's not uncommon to have nightmares, not _often_ but on a vaguely regular basis. Amelia has them too, sometimes, though he doesn't know what she could have seen to have the dreams that keep her up at night. He doesn't know about Blaine, they don't talk about much, other than Kurt encouraging him to eat and take care of himself only to be ignored, but _something _keeps Blaine awake until the wee hours. Still, despite his knowledge that none of it was real, he can't shake off the unease pooled heavily in his gut.

He curls up into himself, not daring to close his eyes again. Stares into the darkness of his bedroom, lit only by dim moonlight, and tries to get through the night without thinking too much about anything at all.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe I heard about this from Finn. Who heard about it from <em>Rachel.<em>"

Why Rachel is talking to Finn about his personal life, Kurt doesn't know - he hadn't even known they were on speaking terms again. They haven't been together in years, except for a few hookups that no one likes to talk about for fear of spawning yet more drama, but their friendship has ended up as messy and complex as their relationship was, and Kurt doesn't even want to try following it. Kurt sighs heavily, for what feels like the hundredth time since he started filling Burt in on the entire mess that his life has become, and glances over at Blaine, who sits on the floor with Amelia playing some game - something to do with monster trucks and My Little Pony, from what he sees. These are the only times he sees Blaine smile; _really _smile and not just putting on a face for Amelia - like he can immerse himself in her game of make-believe just as easily as she can. "I know, Dad. I'm sorry. Things have been a bit crazy. I haven't had time to talk to anyone."

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Me? I'm fine." Kurt cradles the phone between his ear and shoulder as he cuts up a clove of garlic while keeping Blaine and Amelia in the corner of his vision. He's become a master of multitasking over the years, having a kid does that to a person. "Why?"

"Well, isn't it hard having him around again?"

"Of course it's hard, but I can handle it."

"Never said you couldn't." Burt's voice is gruff over the cell phone speaker. "Are you two, y'know…?" He trails off, but the unspoken question is obvious.

"Dad, no!" Kurt hisses. "Why does everyone assume that?"

"Hey, hey, no need to get defensive, I'm just wondering."

"Nothing is going on with us and nothing ever will." Blaine and Amelia have moved on to Barbies, now, and she gives him charge of the two Ken dolls who take the role of daddies whenever she plays house with them (it doesn't occur to her to have a female doll as a parent.) Kurt lets his eyes linger on them for a moment before he turns away. "We've both… moved on."

Burt makes a noncommittal grunt that says he isn't convinced; Kurt never had been able to lie to him, if it is a lie. Kurt's feelings toward Blaine are like a hopelessly tangled knot; he doesn't know where to begin unraveling it, too frustrated to start.

It was hard on all of them, after the divorce - the Hummel-Hudsons were the only family Blaine had for a long time, and that was snatched away too. Burt and Carole had assured Kurt that he, of course, came first - but their sadness over losing Blaine nearly echoed Kurt's own, despite Burt's grudge. Finn, however, had taken up an immediate and unwavering hatred of Blaine, and won't let anyone forget it. He had probably spun Rachel's version of the story out to paint Blaine as the villain instead of the victim here, Kurt thinks, hence Burt's worry. He rolls his eyes.

"If that boy lays a finger on you, you tell me," Burt says. "I don't care how messed up he is, he doesn't get to mess with you."

"I'm not a child, dad."

"I know."

"Nothing is going to happen. He's not some raging, violent lunatic, okay, it happened _one time_. He's just…" Kurt sighs. "He needs help. He needs someone to be there for him. You know that I know what that's like."

Kurt doesn't know how much Burt knows about his brief period of depression in highschool, or how bad it had gotten. Burt _still _doesn't know anything about the kiss that Dave Karofsky had stolen from him - an event that has lost its importance over the years, but still helped shape him, back in the days when he was still malleable, still being molded into who he was to become, learning to fit inside of his own skin. No one but Blaine and Kurt and Dave know just how instrumental Blaine was in saving Kurt all those years ago. Blaine has shaped him too, in his own way.

Even if it's years late, Kurt has to do something to repay that debt. Sometimes it feels like it's _too _late.

"You just remember to take care of yourself, too," Burt says.

"I will, Dad."

"Now lemme talk to that kid of yours."

Kurt calls Amelia over and passes the phone to her, and she abandons Blaine and runs off with it, chattering away to her grandfather. With two hands free, Kurt returns to the vegetables he's chopping, making quicker work of the garlic now. He hums to himself - more to remove the heavy topic of the conversation from his mind than to carry a tune - but stops abruptly when he hears a voice behind him.

"Need help?"

Kurt startles and turns around to see Blaine, standing behind him. "You scared me."

"Sorry." Blaine shrugs. He gestures toward the small pile of vegetables on the counter. "Need a hand? Kurt glances back at the food and the extra knife laying out, and hesitates. When he looks back at Blaine the other man's expression hardens. "I'm not going to cut myself in front of you with your kitchen knives," he snaps. "I'm not stupid."

"I didn't mean that."

"Yeah, you did."

"I'm sorry, I just - you make me…nervous." Kurt swallows. "I never know what to expect from you anymore." Blaine doesn't reply, but the look in his eyes softens enough that Kurt can relax. "Um… you can chop up those carrots, if you want."

Blaine takes the knife, a small wooden cutting board that had been a wedding present (Kurt can't remember who from, now) and the two carrots. He sits at the island counter and starts chopping in silence, with no indication as to why he wanted to help - he's never offered it before now. Kurt lets the silence go on, broken only by the sound of knives on wood before he can't stand it anymore and clears his throat. "How was your day?" He asks just to stop the quiet, wincing at how awkward it sounds; making dinner together and asking that, like they're playing house.

Blaine looks up from his work and stares at Kurt for a moment. "I don't know. Not… bad?" He asks cautiously, afraid that there's a wrong answer. Not bad, of course, is far different from good. "Uneventful. I helped Amelia with her reading."

Kurt nods his encouragement, hoping to keep Blaine talking. "That's great. I wish I had more time to help her with homework, I'm so busy lately, but her teacher says she's doing well." Blaine nods, returns to the carrots and doesn't reply. Kurt wonders if he's forgotten how to carry a conversation. "Does this mean you'll actually eat some of this food tonight?" He half-jokes. Blaine rarely has an appetite, except for picking at leftovers at four in the morning when he can't sleep. Kurt can't force him into eating or spoon-feed him the way he has to resort to with Amelia when she's particularly stubborn, but the sharp angles of Blaine's hipbones are all too visible through his thin pajamas. His skinniness worries Kurt, and Kurt has taken to adding more fattening foods to their diet just in the hopes that Blaine will gain a little more weight when he does eat.

"Dunno," Blaine shrugs. His stomach growls loudly, betraying him, and Kurt can't hide a quiet laugh. The very edges of Blaine's mouth quirk in a sheepish smile, and it takes the edge off, makes the silence that follows Blaine's murmured "yeah, okay" easier to bear.

It's surprisingly natural, sitting here cooking together in silence - something they've done countless times but not, of course, in years. Maybe it should be weird, but Kurt allows himself to relax. Sometimes he needs the illusion of normality.

"Kurt?" Blaine speaks up, the name soft on his tongue.

Kurt glances back. Blaine has a small pile of chopped up carrots next to him, and when Kurt looks at him, he quickly averts his eyes toward them instead, trying to act as though he wasn't watching. "Hmm?"

"Do you think people can change?"

Kurt raises his eyebrows. "Yes," he says, without hesitation. "I've seen it happen."

Blaine flushes, and fiddles with the knife in his hand in an absent way that makes Kurt want to snatch it from his hand like he's a child, though he isn't doing anything that dangerous. "But, like…" He stops, already frustrated. Blaine has always been so put together and eloquent, it's odd to see him at a loss for words so often. "Never mind, it's stupid."

"Tell me," Kurt urges. Blaine nibbles at his bottom lip.

"Do you think that - like, once someone has changed, they could change back? To the way they were before?" It all comes out in a breathless, mumbled rush that makes it hard to follow.

"I don't know, Blaine." Kurt frowns, bewildered by the question. "I guess anything is possible?"

Blaine seems to ponder that for a while, brow furrowed. "I don't even feel like me anymore," he says, barely loud enough for Kurt to hear. "I used to _like_ myself, sometimes. But now - I just don't recognize me."

He's at a loss for words. Because this is the first time Blaine has opened up to him, even a little, in _years, _maybe even since before the divorce. And it's not something Kurt can fix, though he feels like he _should. _It's something that no one can fix but Blaine, and he looks so lost.

It _does _get Kurt thinking, though, and he wonders if Blaine might be right. He misses the Blaine that he first met, Blaine the hopeless hipster that wore too many bowties and dress shoes with no socks, who communicated through song, who looked at life through innocent eyes despite everything he had been put through in his young life, the Blaine that still features in his dreams. He wants that Blaine back so badly it makes him ache.

Amelia runs in, holding Kurt's phone out to him. "Grandpa says I love you! When is supper ready?"

"Soon," Kurt says distractedly, though they've all but abandoned the vegetables. She takes this as a good enough answer and runs off to play again.

When Kurt turns back to Blaine, his vulnerable expression has hardened, his shoulders hunched. "Forget it, it's stupid," he repeats, starting to stand up.

"Wait -" Kurt's hand shoots across the countertop, grasping Blaine's wrist to keep him there. He's a little surprised when Blaine doesn't flinch away. Blaine looks at the hand wrapped around his wrist, and then up at Kurt's face, expression unreadable. "First, I'm not going to think that anything you have to say is stupid, so don't shut yourself down like that, okay?" It's incredible that Blaine is talking to him at _all,_ no way is he going to call Blaine _stupid._ "Second, I'm pretty sure everyone has felt like that." Blaine raises an eyebrow in response, it makes Kurt want to smile but he doesn't. "You're in a bad place, emotionally, and you know that you should feel better but you don't, so of course you don't feel like yourself. I think that's probably normal."

"You sound like Naomi," Blaine mutters, making no move to pull his arm away from Kurt. Kurt slowly uncurls his fingers, face heating up in a slight blush as he draws back.

"And third… I don't know if someone can change _back _to who they were, and…" It pains him to say it, but he goes on. "Maybe they shouldn't be able to. Because that's sort of the point, right? We change and grow and adapt, and that's good, because it means that _this is going to change too._" He's grateful that what he's saying makes a vague sort of sense, because he's making it up as he goes. "It means that, even though it will take a while, you're going to get past this and become the person you want to be again."

Blaine shuts his eyes tight, breathing in deep. "It doesn't feel like it," he says quietly, voice breaking.

"I know. But it _will._" Kurt insists. Blaine locks his eyes on the countertop, and a soft not-quite-laugh falls from his lips.

"How much of that did you bullshit?"

Kurt can't help but laugh too, sharp and sudden and unexpected. "Um, about ninety-nine percent. But it was pretty good, right?"

"Pretty good," Blaine repeats. He has good days and bad days (or bad days and slightly better days) and Kurt is starting to be able to tell the difference between them. This is a good day; he's talking and making an effort not to be cruel, and it's such a relief to know that they can have days like this. Chances are that tomorrow he will lock himself in his room and refuse to come out, and the cycle will start all over again, but the small steps, the little changes, are important.

Blaine falls silent again but it's okay, this time - they've said what they need to say for now. He continues to help chop vegetables for dinner, the silence between them almost _companionable. _Kurt doesn't expect it to last, but for now he revels in the peace.


	9. In the Grip of a Hurricane

**A/N:** :o Nine chapters in and we finally have ~development! Sorry for the wait, guys.

**Trigger warning for alcoholism, **just in case that bothers some of you! Wouldn't want to upset anyone. Enjoy!  
><strong>EDIT: <strong>Just had to fix a little continuity error than someone alerted me to, carry on.

* * *

><p>"And you have my cell?"<p>

"Yes, Kurt."

"And my office number?"

"_Yes_, Kurt."

"And Rachel's number and all other emergency contacts, which are all on the fridge if you need them -?"

"No, you've only told me five hundred times, I think I need to hear it all again," Blaine groans, letting his head fall back against the couch.

Kurt takes a deep breath. "Just making sure," he says, a little frantic as he tugs Amelia into her little red coat. She's already going to be late for school, which means he'll technically be late for work, but they can just deal with it.

In a way, it's a relief to be going back to work. He'll get so much more work done there, and he's been going a little stir crazy in this apartment with only Blaine, silent and unapproachable, for company all day (though it has done wonders for keeping the house in order.) However, it's just as nerve-wracking.

He doesn't know what to expect from leaving Blaine on his own - chances are that everything will be fine, that Blaine will lie in bed all day long anyway, but what if he doesn't. What if something goes wrong, what if…?

What if Blaine takes this chance to hurt himself again? Yes, he's locked the medicine cabinet and the knife drawer, but those aren't the only ways to kill yourself. The bandages on Blaine's arms are gone now, just a few stitches in the big, recent cuts remaining, but Kurt can't bring himself to look them yet. Every thin silvery mark is a reminder of waking up to the news that Blaine had nearly died, the fear that had gripped him, like an icy hand around his lungs stealing his breath.

They haven't talked about it; Blaine doesn't offer up the information and Kurt is scared to hear it.

"I don't have to go," Kurt says, already regretting the decision to go back to work. "I can take more time off."

"No, you can't, you've been gone too long already."

"So what?"

Amelia stomps her foot. "Daddy, I'm gonna be late," she whines.

"Just a minute, honey." Kurt looks at Blaine one more time, brow furrowed in concern. "I'll only go if you're sure you'll be okay."

Blaine rolls his eyes in place of a response.

"_Blaine,_" Kurt says. "Promise you won't do anything." He leaves that open to interpretation.

"Yeah." Blaine doesn't look away from the TV, though his eyes are unfocused, not taking in any of whatever mindless talk show is flashing before his eyes.

It's all he can do, though he wishes there was more. "Take care of yourself."

"Mmmhmm."

Kurt sighs. "Come on, Amelia."

Throughout the day, he can't shake the dread he feels, no matter how much he tries to convince himself that he's just being paranoid.

* * *

><p>With picking Amelia up and grocery shopping after work, it's getting dark by the time Kurt finally fits the key into the lock on the apartment door. That's the first thing that makes him uneasy - why would Blaine lock the door?<p>

He shakes it off. Chances are Blaine has just been spending the day in the guest room and doesn't want to deal with other people. Kurt can understand that. He steps inside, followed by Amelia, setting the groceries on the kitchen floor. "I'm home," he calls out when he doesn't see Blaine on the living room couch. "Everything go okay?"

No response. Kurt frowns and puts the milk in the fridge, batting Amelia's hands away when she immediately starts digging for treats. "Blaine?" His voice rings through the apartment, and Kurt feels a twist in his gut. "Amelia, why don't you play in the living room?" She complies.

He leaves the groceries where they sit and goes through each room in the apartment. Bathroom, his own room, Amelia's room, laundry room - nothing. He holds his breath as he pushes open the door to the guest room.

Yes, he's relieved not to see Blaine hanging from the ceiling or something, but the fact that Blaine isn't there just makes him panic more. He has a sudden morbid, horrible thought, the memory of a nightmare at the edges of his mind, and he rushes out to the balcony, connected to the apartment through a sliding door in the living room. When he peers over the railing, he fully expects to see a broken body, and can only breathe again when all he sees are brown, neglected shrubberies below.

But _where could he have gone?_ The city is so huge, and he could have gone anywhere since that morning, and oh, god, Kurt _left him alone. _What was he thinking?

Frantic as he scrolls through his contacts, Kurt holds his phone up to his ear, muttering, "_pick up pick up pick the fuck up" _as it rings.

It takes a while, and Kurt is fully prepared to leave a panicked voicemail, when suddenly a voice says in his ear, "H'llo?"

"Blaine!" Kurt closes his eyes and lets out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Blaine, where are you right now?"

"Or _hello _as some people used to say," Blaine says, almost laughing, but not quite. His voice is slurred in a way that's all too familiar, and Kurt feels a spark of anger in the midst of his worry.

"Damn it, Blaine, just tell me where you are."

"Uhhh. Dunno."

"You don't know?" Kurt can hear the throb of music behind Blaine's voice, and other voices behind that. At least he's in public, for now, but there's no mistaking what sort of place he's in.

"Can't remember the name."

"_Blaine…_"

"Not far. Walked here. Oh, oh! I'm at Kilroy's Bar and Grill. Well. That's what the sign says..."

Kurt sighs. "Amelia, put your coat back on," he says. "Stay right where you are, okay Blaine?"

"Fiiiine." Blaine resigns, and then all sound disappears when he hangs up. Kurt goes to Amelia, who struggles with her coat, and helps her slip her arms back into the sleeves.

"Where are we going?" She asks.

"To get your _stupid _father," Kurt growls. Her winter clothes are right by the door, so he shoves a hat on her head, slightly taming her wild hair, and a pair of mittens on her hands for good measure - he can see flurries starting to form outside the window, and curses Blaine's timing. If she ends up catching a cold because of Blaine's fucking idiocy he is going to have hell to pay.

"Uh-ohhh. Do you have to put Papa in time-out?"

"I just might. Come on. "

He grips her hand tight as they walk down the now dark street, out of the neighborhood and past little shops and restaurants. Amelia complains, of course, but he ignores it - he can't leave her alone and he _has _to find Blaine.

Holding onto his daughter, he turns into the first bar he sees, in all its tacky, neon-lit glory. When he tries to go in the door, the bouncer immediately holds up a hand. "Hey, man, no kids."

"What - no, no, I'm not here to drink," Kurt insists. The bouncer doesn't budge. "We're just looking for her dad."

"I can't let her in."

"Well, then, have you seen him? A little shorter than me, curly brown hair - come _on, _he shouldn't be here. He's an alcoholic. I just need to take him home."

"Sorry, bro, not my problem."

Kurt groans aloud. Then he pulls out his phone, dialing Blaine's number again. This time he picks up immediately. "Blaine, can you please just come to the door?" He snaps. "They won't let me in."

"Don't want to," Blaine says. "I didn't finish my drink."

Peeking out from behind Kurt's legs, Amelia stares wide-eyed up at the bouncer and into the crowded, trashy bar behind him. She shouldn't be here, shouldn't see this part of Blaine's life. All worry has faded away. Kurt is _beyond _pissed. "_Damn_ it, Blaine, just get out here _now," _he practically snarls.

Amelia gasps and claps her hands over her ears. "Daddy, you said a bad word!"

"_Now!"_

"Alright, alright!"

Kurt doesn't have to wait long. Less than five minutes of clutching Amelia's hand to keep her from running off (she's far too curious sometimes, and is prone to wander without thinking of the consequences) and impatiently tapping his foot later, Blaine appears, bleary eyed and messy-haired and staggering just enough to show that he's drunk.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Kurt holds finger up to his lips and shushes him. "Don't. Say. Anything." He hisses before turning on his heel and starting the walk back home. Blaine trails a few steps behind them, hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyes locked on the ground.

Kurt cannot believe this is happening. All that time of keeping Blaine away from alcohol, wasted. But what can he do? Lock Blaine up in the house? He'd go insane within a day. It's inhumane. Beside him, Amelia complains of being tired, and Kurt scoops her into his arms and carries her the rest of the way, thankful for how light and tiny she is. Normally he doesn't carry her everywhere, doesn't want to spoil her, but he doesn't have it in him to argue this time.

It's just so frustrating. He'd thought that they were actually getting somewhere, that Blaine was going to start getting better. The depression, the alcoholism, it's linked - Blaine is sad, so he drinks, which makes him sadder, which makes him want to drink more. To fix one he has to fix both. And Kurt can accept how difficult it is to quit an addiction - but Blaine doesn't even seem to _care, _and that's the worst part.

Blaine falls onto the couch when they get back into the apartment and stares up at the ceiling, not bothering to take off his winter coat. Amelia watches him, looking as though she wants to talk but not knowing what to say. This has thrown off his entire evening; they haven't even done dinner. The poor girl must be starving by now. "What do you want for dinner, Amelia?" Kurt asks tiredly.

"Peanut butter and jelly!"

"Wonderful. Go play in your room or do homework or something for a while and I'll bring it to you."

Her eyes widen. "I get to eat in my _room?_"

"You can eat on your bed for all I care, just stay in your room for a while."

She claps her hands in delight and runs off. Kurt pointedly doesn't look at Blaine, though he knows that Blaine is watching him, as he gets out the ingredients for her sandwich, glaring at the jar of peanut butter as if it's personally offended him.

Blaine stands up, swaying a little, and says, "Kurt…"

"What were you thinking?" Kurt snaps. He sloppily lathers one slice of bread with peanut butter. "What the hell was going through your mind?"

"I - I just wanted a drink."

"You. Are. An. Alcoholic." Blaine flinches, though Kurt doesn't know if it's because of what he says, or the harshness in his tone. "You have to _stop _this, Blaine, you cannot do this again."

"Fuck you, you can't _control _me -"

"Do you have any idea how scared I was?" Kurt's voice grows in volume, in the back of his mind, he thinks about Amelia and how she'll be able to hear them from her room, but he can't seem to make himself quieter. "I didn't know where you were or what you had done, I thought I was going to find you dead in a fucking alleyway somewhere, - but that's what you want, right? You're trying to drink yourself to death?"

"Why the fuck do you _care?_" Blaine shouts. "Why should I care what you think of me? _You _left. _You _kicked me out. _You _ended it. So don't act like you give a shit about me!"

"This isn't about _us_! It's about you! You're my responsibility and I can't take care of you if the minute I step out of the house you're doing the exact opposite of what you need to do to get better! What am I going to have to do, Blaine, lock you up? Take you to work with me? Do you need me to skip another few weeks of work to babysit you -"

"I didn't ask for your help!"

"Too fucking bad!"

"_Stop fighting!" _

Kurt startles. Amelia is standing in the hallway, fingers in her ears, staring at the two of them with wide, watery eyes. "Stop it, stop it," she whimpers. "Daddies aren't supposed to fight."

Blaine turns away. Kurt has to put a hand on the counter to steady himself, taking deep breathes that do little to actually calm him down. Amelia continues, "Miss James says that instead of arguing we have to come to a - a compromise." She stumbles over the word, face screwing up in concentration. "My friend Max is good at compromises. He's five and a half. Daddies are _old. _So daddies should be better at it than Max."

A short, humorless laugh escapes Kurt's lips. He steps forward, kneeling down in front of Amelia to pull her into a tight hug. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that, sweetheart. Papa and I are just… being stupid."

"Uh-huh," she agrees, and Kurt has to squeeze her tighter. It's not fair. She deserves better fathers, ones that don't scream in each other's faces. "Can I have my sammich now?"

"I'll finish it right away." He pulls back a little to press a kiss to her forehead. "Give Papa and me a little space?"

"Kay."

"I love you."

She darts back to her room, happier again after a hug and the promise of a sandwich. Kurt goes back into the kitchen, refusing to look at Blaine as he tries to finish Amelia's meal with shaking hands. He feels sick to his stomach.

After the third attempt of trying to scoop up the jam with a butter knife and having it fall back into the jar due to trembling hands - he swears under his breath in frustration - another hand covers his, stopping him. "Let me do it," Blaine says, training his voice into gentleness now, and Kurt silently steps aside. The sandwich Blaine makes is a little sloppy, but he cuts off the crust and slices it into squares, just the way their daughter likes it. Because even though he's a complete fuckup, Kurt thinks, bitterly and maybe a little too harsh, he's still the perfect fucking father in Amelia's eyes.

Kurt can't do a single thing right.

"Don't cry," Blaine says softly. "Please." Kurt doesn't notice the burning in his eyes until Blaine mentions it, and wipes an escaping tear away.

"I know I need to stop letting you affect me so much," Kurt says, only half speaking to Blaine. "But I just can't." Blaine doesn't answer. Kurt lifts his chin, trying to look into Blaine's eyes. "And it's because I care. I _do, _Blaine, it's why you make me so _angry _when you pull shit like this - god, I just, I love you, but I _hate _you when you're drunk."

The admission slips out too easily, too quickly, to take back. It surprises him how easy it is to say. It's too much to think about now, so Kurt just doesn't. He shoves it to the back of his mind so that he can try to forget it.

He only hopes that Blaine is too drunk to remember this in the morning.

"I know."

"So why do you make me feel so awful about caring?"

Blaine looks terrified, for an instant, vulnerable. "Because you _shouldn't,_" he says, the look in his eyes desperate, almost pleading.

What? Like Blaine is trying to _protect _him by keeping him at a distance, by being a complete asshole? For some reason it only makes Kurt angrier, which is probably what Blaine wants, damn him.

"Well, tough," Kurt says. He takes the sandwich and a deep breath. "I'm going to take this to Amelia. Then I am going to go to sleep. And you are not going to sneak out of this house _ever _again."

Blaine just nods.

No matter how long Kurt keeps his eyes closed that night, no matter how tired he is every time he falls asleep he's plagued by nightmares of falling, and after a while, he just stares at the darkness of his ceiling, trying not to think of anything at all.

* * *

><p>Kurt stumbles out of his room at dawn, exhausted from trying to sleep, ironic as that is. Usually Blaine is up by now, drinking coffee at the kitchen counter, but not this morning. He only has a moment of worry before he catches sight of Blaine outside on the balcony.<p>

His immediate thought is one of Blaine jumping. He's just sitting there, though, on one of the lawn chairs that Kurt rarely uses. Forgetting about coffee for now, Kurt steps out into the brisk morning air.

Blaine doesn't look up as Kurt shuts the glass door behind him and sits down. He has a cigarette held loosely between his fingers (where he got it and the lighter in his other hand, Kurt has no idea) but hasn't lit it yet, and looks surprisingly alert for how hung-over he should be. Maybe Blaine has gotten so used to hangovers over the years that it's like a normal state for him. Maybe being sober is more like a hangover.

He catches Kurt looking and shrugs. "A guy has to have at least one vice." He gestures with the cigarette. Once Kurt would have made him throw them out, so that he wouldn't damage his voice, but Blaine doesn't sing anymore, not for years. He lights it and takes a drag, the smoke curling up and around his lips, tantalizing before he coughs around it, harsh enough to make Kurt wince by association. He leaves it to smolder on the little table between the two lawn chairs, giving it a disgusted look. "Ugh." His voice is throaty from the smoke he'd inhaled.

"If you're going to smoke I wish you'd go with marijuana." Kurt says - he's too tired to argue against smoking in general. They had both experimented with it once or twice in college, and while it had never done much for Kurt - just made him sleepy, more than anything - he had liked watching Blaine get all giggly and extra-affectionate. So very long ago, it feels like. "It's better. In that it won't kill you, unlike most every other vice."

Blaine gives him a sideways glance. "That's part of the appeal."

"Don't." Kurt's eyes narrow. Blaine just shrugs, turning away again to watch the sunrise over the skyscrapers. He picks up the cigarette again, pondering it, before tossing it over the railing.

"I'm sorry," Blaine says, after a long, drawn out silence. He doesn't say what he's apologizing for and he doesn't need to.

Kurt closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. "I'm not going to say that it's okay," he says. He wonders what Blaine remembers from last night - hopefully not much. "You know it's not. Nothing about this is."

"I know." Kurt turns to look at him, watches him. The light of the morning sun makes the shadows under his eyes seem harsher, how thin he's gotten more obvious. Blaine's eyes are rimmed with red, his hair shaggy and full of split ends, his jaw covered in scruff. He's a mess, and so tired, and still the most beautiful thing Kurt has ever seen. "Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"I know... that I'm not okay. I keep saying I am, but I'm not. I know that I need to stop feeling like this, like - like I'm falling to pieces every day, like I'm dead already. I need to actually let the therapy do me some good and I need to -" he falters. "To stop the drinking. For good this time. I know all of that."

Kurt nods. He watches Blaine in silence, waiting for him to keep going. "I just don't know how." Blaine finally whispers, his voice breaking.

"Just ask." Kurt says, trying to meet Blaine's eyes.

Blaine swallows thickly, trying to speak but unable to make the words come out. "Help me. Please." He chokes on the words, as if they're physically painful to say. It's obviously a relief even as it hurts - his shoulders slump, an unbearable weight lifted from them. He _needed _this. He needed to be the one to ask for help, not to have it forced on him. He watches Kurt with wide, frightened eyes - actually afraid that Kurt will refuse. As if he could.

Kurt reaches across the table and takes Blaine's hand, squeezing tight. He nods, once - and is rewarded with a smile. It isn't much, a quick turn-up of the lips, barely there at all, but it reaches Blaine's eyes, which is more than can be said for any smile or laugh Kurt has seen on his face in years now.

"I think you should make another appointment with Naomi," Kurt says.

"Kurt…" Blaine's protest, if it can be called that, is barely even half-hearted.

"She's a professional, Blaine; she helps people through things like this every day. I'm here for you, no matter what, I'm going to help you, but - there are some things I just don't understand, and she will."

"I don't know what to say. To her or you or anyone." Blaine blinks, swallows, stares down at his lap. "God. When did I turn into this?" He croaks.

"You're going to feel better, Blaine," Kurt says. A day ago, he wouldn't have been able to say it. But admitting that he needs help, needs Kurt - it gives Kurt a lot more hope than he's had in a while.


	10. Leave All YourLove & Your Longing Behind

Kurt makes an appointment with Naomi - still in the apartment, per Blaine's hesitant request. After going out to the bar the other night, he's a little hesitant to leave the apartment for fear of losing control again, despite Kurt offering to go with him. The morning she's scheduled to arrive, Blaine wakes up early and shaves and gets dressed, without being prompted, for what Kurt thinks is the first time since he arrived here.

It's more of a relief than it has any reason to be. Kurt had worried for a moment if Blaine would take two steps back, and refuse to see her. Instead, he sits at the kitchen counter while Kurt tries (fruitlessly) to bribe Amelia into eating her breakfast, poking at a plate of scrambled eggs and looking more nervous than he does before a job interview.

"Hey," Kurt says, making Blaine look up from his food. "It's going to be fine."

"I know," Blaine says, but he doesn't seem convinced.

"Just be honest and she'll be able to help you."

Blaine nods. His face is still tinged green as he pushes the eggs around without eating them. "What're you talking about?" Amelia says around a mouthful of toast.

Kurt glances at Blaine, who just shrugs as if to say 'go ahead'. "There's a doctor coming to see Papa," Kurt explains.

"Oh! Will she give you medicine?"

"I hope not," Blaine mutters under his breath.

"Do you have to get a shot, Papa?" Amelia's eyes widened. "With needles? I don't like needles."

"No, honey, she's not that kind of doctor."

Amelia frowns and looks skeptical, having never encountered a doctor who _didn't _want to stick her with needles - granted, her only encounters have been checkups and flu shots. "Remember how we talked about Papa being kind of sick?" Kurt explains softly. She nods, distracted enough by the conversation that Kurt manages to slip a bite of breakfast between her reluctant lips. Never in his life has he met a child so averse to food. "Well, Doctor Naomi is the kind of doctor that will help Papa stop being sad."

"Ohh." She nods, satisfied for now, and hops out of her chair, leaving her breakfast behind as she goes to play. Kurt lets her go, tired of fighting over it.

"I'm not sick," Blaine says once Amelia is occupied, almost too quiet for Kurt to hear.

"I'm just simplifying it for Amelia."

"You don't need to baby her. She's smart."

Kurt raises his eyebrows. "So I'm supposed to tell her everything? No, Blaine, I'm not putting all that on a five-year-olds shoulders."

"I didn't mean… never mind."

He can't say that things have gotten _easier, _exactly, since the conversation on the balcony three days ago. Not harder, either. Blaine still has trouble voicing his feelings, gets frustrated easily and lashes out. But he's more open, too - he's at least _spoken_ to Kurt every day, which is an improvement.

What he hasn't mentioned is Kurt's little slip, his mistake of admitting that he still loves Blaine. Sometimes Kurt isn't even sure he said it aloud, though in his heart he knows. Kurt wonders if they're ever going to talk about it, and hopes that day doesn't come soon. He's barely ready to admit it to himself. At the same time, though… it doesn't make a difference. Doesn't change anything - not what Blaine did, not the tension between them. He's already made the choice not to bring it up again, hoping that Blaine doesn't either. All Kurt is there for is to take care of him as long as he needs, and his stupid _feelings _that just won't leave him alone don't factor in at all.

"It was just a way to explain it to her without going into detail," Kurt says gently. "I know you're not _sick_. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Blaine shakes his head. "I'm overreacting. Seriously, don't worry. And you're right, aren't you? If I need a doctor…"

"Blaine…" Sometimes he wants to hate this man for making him feel so _helpless. _What can he say to that? What the hell makes him more qualified to take care of Blaine than anyone else, when he's honestly just flailing?

Before he can find what he wants to say, the doorbell rings. Amelia leaps up and rushes to the door before her fathers can do anything about it, pulling it open to reveal Naomi. Her hair is a little wild, her nose pink with cold; once again, Kurt has the thought that she seems too young to be a doctor. She smiles down at a wide-eyed Amelia. "Hi, there. You must be Amelia."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm here to see your daddy."

"'Kay." Amelia gives the doctor a wary look but steps aside, letting Naomi into the kitchen. She greets Kurt, but her smile widens as her eyes land on Blaine.

"It's good to see you again, Blaine," she says. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugs, suddenly looking shy. "Not bad, I guess. I don't know."

"I was really glad to hear from Kurt. I'd hoped you'd want to talk some more."

"Well, I have to try something, right?" Blaine glances at Kurt as if searching for approval, and Kurt nods encouragingly.

"Can I get you anything to drink, Naomi?" Kurt asks, remembering his manners.

"Oh, no, don't worry about me." She waves a hand. "Well, anywhere in particular you'd like to be, Blaine?"

Another shrug. "We can use the guest room - er, my room. Whatever." He stands up, his breakfast abandoned, and puts on a wavering smile. "Shall we?"

As he leads her down the hallway, Kurt watches them go. For some reason he's nervous, though it isn't like this is some test that Blaine could fail. They'll just be talking, that's what Blaine needs - someone to talk to, who knows what they're talking _about_. Still, for a moment, Kurt prays to a god he still doesn't believe in. _Please let this work, _he begs_. Don't screw this up. _

_Let him have one good thing._

He can hear voices from the other room, and knows that he could make out what they were saying if he wanted, but Amelia needs attention too. But if he happens to hear snippets, or more than snippets, of their conversation while he sits on the couch helping Amelia write the alphabet - well, he thinks, pushing away the twinge of guilt, he's not to blame. It's not his fault the walls are so thin, after all.

* * *

><p>Blaine's palms sweat as he takes a seat on the bed, and he wipes them on his jeans while Naomi's back is turned. There is no reason for him to be so terrified, for his mouth to be bone dry and his stomach twisting itself into knots. Apparently, overwhelming anxiety is just part of the package. <em>Because there isn't enough wrong with me already.<em>

Naomi sits on the desk chair, pulling her little notebook out of her bag - the way she holds her pen, poised over the paper, makes it all more formal than it seemed before. "You don't need to be so nervous, Blaine," she says with a small smile.

Blaine startles. "I'm not," he lies. He absently scratches at his forearm, where countless silvery scars hide beneath the fabric of the nice shirt he'd actually bothered to put on this morning (only the second time he's bothered with anything but the pajamas from the luggage Kurt had packed for him, all contents sitting on the floor of the guestroom instead of in the closet.) The cuts don't hurt anymore, but he's all too aware of them, can still _feel _them. The pity in Kurt's expression the first time he looked at them, after the bandages came off, was one of the worst things he has ever felt, the way Kurt can't keep his eyes off them unless Blaine wears long sleeves a close runner-up.

The therapist continues to smile. "I like to think I'm good at reading people. But really, just relax. I'm not here to judge you. I won't laugh. I'm just here to talk, okay?"

"…okay." He'd been up almost all night, thinking of things to say, questions to ask. Now that she's here, in front of him, now that he has to _talk - _he has no idea what to do. Everything that had, in the early hours, seemed like a good topic to discuss crumbles to dust before it can reach the tip of his tongue; even in his head, it all sounds _stupid._

He _feels _stupid, pathetic for feeling like this, and Blaine's throat is already clenching, the backs of his eyes burning. He can't cry before they even start talking, god, what is wrong with him?

"Anything you _want_ to talk about, Blaine?" Naomi looks at him like a specimen, like he's something brand new to her. There's concern there too, of course, but he's sure that she can't let herself care too much. All the sob stories she must hear every single day - his probably doesn't even compare - and it's her _job, _this is what she wants to do for the rest of her life_. _He would be a wreck, well, more of a wreck than he already is.

"I -" he chokes and tries again. "I don't know." He's not used to talking about important things, about himself. "I'm sorry, I…"

"No, no apologies. It's okay." She thinks for a moment. "Well, has anything happened since we last spoke?"

Blaine bites his lip. "I fell off the wagon," he admits, voice soft. "The other day, I… I snuck out to go to a bar."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I don't know how to stop."

"By not drinking, I would think."

"Yeah, but - I'm miserable. Without booze. I'm miserable with it, too, but…" He huffs. "The way he looked at me. Kurt, that is. He was so disappointed." Naomi nods, absently scribbling something down. He tries to meet her eyes, though it makes it harder to talk. "I have to get better. If only to stop him from looking at me like that ever again - I _have to."_

"You care about him a lot, don't you?" Blaine feels his face flush. He doesn't reply. "Well. Asking for help can be the first step to feeling better. You're already one step closer. Having someone to motivate you can't hurt either."

It sounds simple when she says it, but he looks at the task ahead of him and feels his shoulders slump, the weight of this _illness _he knows that he has (despite all objections to Kurt saying he's 'sick' he _knows, _he knows that's what this is) making him exhausted before he even tries. "How do I do it?" He asks, wetting his dry lips. "When I can barely find the energy to get out of bed in the morning - how do I get through this?"

"I'm not going to lie to you." Naomi sets her notebook down on her lap and crosses her legs, looking into his eyes. "It won't be easy, Blaine. But I'll be here with you, every step of the way. Kurt, too, I'm sure."

"Then what's the next step?"

Naomi smiles, and when she does her eyes light up. "I'm going to tell you a secret. A lot of people don't believe it." She leans forward.

"_There is nothing wrong with you."_

Blaine doesn't reply, doesn't know how, he feels like he's drowning. She goes on. "You don't believe me, but it's true, Blaine. You're not wrong for feeling the way you do. You aren't a bad person, you are not a lost cause. And most importantly, your depression does _not _define you. Accepting that is a big step too."

Blaine dimly realizes that he's shaking his head; why he's so reluctant to listen to this he has no idea, but he just can't. "I'm sick," he whispers.

"I don't like to use that word."

"I'm -" He tries again. "I wish I could believe you, but I can't. I'm not _normal. _I'm not supposed to _be _this way…"

"What is normal, anyway?" She shrugs. "Blaine, no one in the world has lived a life without hardships of some kind, so by that definition _none _of us are 'normal'. You don't see everyone else's issues because they're ashamed to talk about them too, because they think they're sick or wrong, when really, they just need a little extra help. Which is what I'm here for. Some people are obsessive-compulsive. Some people have insomnia. Some people have anger management problems, or PTSD... and a _lot_ of us struggle with depression. And it is a struggle, isn't it?"

The lump in his throat is so thick now that he can barely breathe. "It's like... someone's holding my head underwater," he says, unsure if he's making sense or not. "And I want to fight back, I want to _do _something about this, but I'm not strong enough. It's like I'm suffocating myself every single day." He shoots her a half-hearted glare. "You can't tell me it's not wrong to feel like that."

"Of course. You feel awful, and no one should have to feel awful. Trust me, I _know._" For the first time, Blaine wonders just how much she understands. He's not going to ask, but he's curious. "But _you _aren't a bad person for feeling that way. It's not your fault."

A laugh forces its way up his throat, harsh and quick, along with the sting of tears that he pushes back. Never mind, she doesn't understand, she has no idea just how much is his fault. Everything, this entire mess, he has no one else to blame for it.

"Can I be blunt with you?" Naomi asks.

"If you want." Blaine shrugs.

"Why did you try to kill yourself?"

His mouth falls open, fully prepared to answer - and he sits there, gaping like an idiot, unable to say a single word. "Because…" he falls silent again. This is stupid. Of course he has _reasons. _He even wrote a note, though he threw it away after writing it - it had ended up being an entire letter to Kurt, and it was too long and didn't make sense, and in the end, he had decided that he didn't _need _to tell anyone why he chose to do it anyway. His parents would never see it, he hasn't talked to any of his friends in ages and they haven't exactly made an effort either, and Kurt - he blinks and shakes his head, forcing his thoughts away from Kurt. "I…"

"You don't know?"

"Because I'm… sad." He says. Pathetic. True, maybe - he is very, very sad - but not an adequate explanation, not that he _has _to explain anything to this girl he doesn't even know.

"I don't believe you," Naomi says raising an eyebrow. It reminds him of Kurt's signature bitch faces, and he almost smiles. Almost.

"Because everyone would be better off without me anyway." He can't look at Naomi, but he knows exactly what he would see if he did - pity. The very last thing he wants from anyone and the only thing anyone can offer. "Don't tell me it's not true," he snaps before she can speak. "I know it's true. I was such a disappointment to my parents that I'm not even their son anymore. Apparently, I'm not worth enough for my best friends to _speak_ to. I hurt the - the best thing that ever happened to me, the only person I could ever see myself loving, and if hitting him wasn't enough, I had to go and keep our baby away from him. _God._ I don't even have an excuse!"

He runs a hand through his thick hair, a desperate laugh falling from his lips. There's something very freeing about being able to just _talk_, to say anything, and now that he's finally managed to get started he's a little scared that he won't be able to stop. "You're a really sweet girl, Naomi, and - thank you for trying. But I'm _not _a good person. I don't deserve help."

"But you _want_ help."

"Yes. I do." He swallows. "I guess I'm too much of a coward to just… put everyone I love out of their misery and just die already. I called the cops on myself." He hasn't admitted this to anyone and isn't sure why he's doing so now, somehow it just makes him feel worse about the whole thing. "After I… I cut myself, the way I did, and I started thinking, _oh, fuck, I'm going to __**die… **_I called 911 just before I passed out. Couldn't even kill myself right and I've been wanting to for _years._"

Naomi jots something down and then just looks at him, long enough that Blaine starts to squirm. "I don't think you really want to die," she says. "And I don't think you're a bad person."

"Did you not hear -"

"I think you're lost. You've lost yourself along the way and you're having trouble finding your way back." She leans back in the chair. "Do you agree?" Blaine nods, eyes burning. He doesn't have anything to say; she's said it all. "I _do_ want to help you, Blaine. I think I can help you find yourself again, if you let me. I'm thinking weekly meetings, although if you ever need to reschedule them don't hesitate to call. There are also more ways to go about this besides just talking to me… there's group therapy, medication; we'll find a treatment method that works for you." She must recognize how overwhelmed Blaine is, because she adds, "But maybe we should wait and discuss all that next time. If there is a next time?" She cocks her head to the side, smiling encouragingly.

It takes Blaine a moment to find his voice, when he does it's strangled and scratchy. "I…" He clears his throat. "I think I'd like that."

He's still shaking a little when they finally emerge from the guest room, but he feels lighter. Not better, but less like he has to carry this weight on his own. The look in Kurt's eyes (proud, hopeful, practically beaming at him) when he smiles at Blaine makes the ordeal, and everything to come, a bit more worth it.

If nothing else, he'll keep holding on for more of _that _look.

* * *

><p>"Naomi!"<p>

The doctor pauses and turns around, looking back at Kurt. It's too cold for him to be out long without a coat, but he shuts the door behind him, shivering at the icy touch of air outside the apartment. Naomi waits patiently.

"Can you make him better?" Kurt asks desperately. "Please, please tell me you can make him better."

Naomi sighs. "It's more a matter of him letting himself get better," she says. She sounds tired. "I can't flip a switch and fix him, Mr. Hummel."

"But…"

He hadn't heard everything. Tiny bits of conversation here and there - he honestly hadn't _tried _to eavesdrop this time, though it was hard. He remembers '_everyone would be better off without me_', remembers '_the only person I could see myself loving'. _Other things, too, but those stand out the most. When Blaine and Naomi had finally emerged from the guest room, the urge to tug Blaine into his arms and hold him was so strong Kurt could hardly bear it. He had resisted, just because he isn't sure how much Blaine would appreciate it.

"I do think we should discuss medication, if he's willing to try it." Naomi continues. "I don't know how long his treatment will take, or what might work for him. I just don't know yet. But yes. I think I can help him."

Kurt closes his eyes, letting out the breath he had been holding. "Thank you," he says softly.

"I think _you _getting him to open up might be beneficial, too."

"He… doesn't really want to talk to me." _Not, _Kurt doesn't say, _that I've made much of an effort._ He just doesn't know what to say, is all.

"You might be surprised." Naomi smiles and turns around, tugging her black peacoat tighter around her chest. "See you next week, Mr. Hummel."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: 1.) I don't think I'll be going too in-depth with Blaine's therapy after this - I've never been to therapy, so I feel like I'll just end up being inaccurate and offensive. We'll just have to see how it goes. Anyway, the story is more about Kurt and Blaine's relationship than every detail of Blaine's recovery, anyway :) But if you have any suggestions on how to portray that accurately, you should let me know!**

**2.) I can't remember what I was going to say here at all. Errrr. Hope you enjoy?**


	11. Only If For A Night

Saturdays are supposed to be a break. Saturdays are supposed to be lazy, or spent tickling Amelia, or trying out a new recipe, or maybe even getting the apartment cleaned up, which is a daunting task when you have a five year old.

Saturdays are _not_ supposed to be spent at work figuring out what his _stupid _interns screwed up this time. Especially not when this Saturday happens to be his birthday.

Kurt sighs and slumps back in his desk chair, more annoyed with himself than anything. It doesn't even _matter, _but he can't help but be disappointed by how today has turned out - birthdays are more a chore than anything now, just a reminder of getting old instead of something to be excited about_. _Amelia hadn't remembered, though he doesn't blame her for that, she still gets confused about when her own birthday is (they're still working on calendars.) She has refused to talk to him much that morning, actually, too focused on whispering various things that he hadn't been able to hear in Blaine's ear. Still, he had hoped for at least a little more than the standard slew of well wishes on Facebook. Maybe a call from Rachel. Speaking of which…

He reaches for his phone and finds her number on speed dial. Maybe a talk with his best friend will cheer him up - though she really should have called _him _first, he calls _her_ on every single birthday like a best friend should. It takes a stupidly long time for her to pick up.

"Kurt! Hello!" She chirps, sounding out of breath. "And how are you on this beautiful day?"

It can hardly be called beautiful with the heavy gray sky and the sleet making the roads unpleasant, but apparently, no one told her that. "Awful. Please save me from my pity party," he moans.

"Oh, I'm sorry. No one should have to go into work on their day off on their birthday."

How she knows all that he has no idea, but Rachel is a little creepy about knowing every intimate detail of his life or demanding it if she doesn't know already, so he lets it slide. "Do you think my thighs can survive me eating an entire ice cream cake tonight? Be honest."

"No no no, don't do that," she says quickly. "Er, I mean, don't wallow _that _much."

"You're probably right." In the background, he hears movement and a voice he can't really make out. A man's voice - oh, god, he totally called her while she has a guy over. Wonderful. With his luck, it'll be Finn or Jesse St. James or someone else equally mortifying. "Well, I can tell you have company, so I won't keep you."

"What? Oh, right, company!" She laughs, too high pitched. Kurt frowns. "Right, lots of company. At my house. Where I am right now."

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy! Hey, so, I have to go, but happy birthday!"

"Thank you, so I guess I'll see you…" All sound cuts off abruptly. Kurt pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it. "…Later." He sighs and tosses it back on his desk, slouching back in his chair.

With any luck - he almost laughs, _what luck?_ _-_ his birthday will be over quickly.

* * *

><p>"I'm home." He moves on autopilot - coat on the coatrack, keys on the bowl on the kitchen counter, shuffling through without really seeing anything as he enters the apartment. "Please tell me you didn't burn the house down while I was gone…" As he steps into the kitchen, he is greeted with nothing but silence. "Amelia?" He calls out, panic starting to worm its way into his voice.<p>

"_Surprise!"_ From behind the blue curtains that cover the glass door, Amelia jumps out and shrieks at the top of her lungs, making Kurt jump an inch in the air, yelping '_ohmyGOD.' _Immediately after her, two more figures jump out, calling out surprise as well, though not as loud as Amelia's ear-piercing scream was - it's Rachel and Blaine, he realizes, after the shower of glittering confetti that the three of them throw stops hiding them from view. "Happy birthday, Daddy!" Amelia beams up at him.

"I. But. _What?_" Only then does Kurt see the decorations, three bright construction paper chains taped to the ceiling and framing the room, and of course confetti everywhere (mostly pooled around Blaine, Amelia, and Rachel's feet.)

"It's a surprise party, Daddy!" Amelia says proudly. She runs up and wraps her arms around his legs, hugging him tight and nearly throwing him off balance.

"For me? Did you plan this?" Kurt looks at Rachel, feeling overwhelmed.

She grins and shakes her head, a few pieces of pink confetti falling from her hair. "No, it was all Amelia! She came up with the idea, and then got Blaine in on it and had him call me."

_And_ _she managed to keep it secret? _Kurt blinks down at Amelia in amazement, and she just beams back.

"Do you like it?" Blaine asks, and Kurt almost startles at the sound of his voice, silent until just now. He looks a little nervous, his eyes wide as he looks at Kurt.

"Of course, I just, I didn't think anyone remembered. Or, you know, cared." Something dawns on him. "That's why you were so eager for me to get out of the house this morning."

"Guilty." Blaine ducks his head, smiling shyly. Sometimes Kurt forgets what his smile looks like, it happens so rarely, but when he does, it still makes him melt a little. Kurt shakes his head, still a little shell-shocked. Amelia tugs on his hand, and when he looks down at her, she holds something out to him. "It's for you," she says with a toothy grin.

It's a crown, cut out of bright-yellow construction paper. On the front is written _Happy Birthday Daddy _in Amelia's five-year-old handwriting, more than a few of the letters backwards (including the _D_s so that it really says _Dabby, _but he gets the idea.) He grins as he perches the paper crown on top of his head, being careful of his perfectly styled hair - hey, having a terrible day is no excuse for _looking _terrible. "How do I look?"

"Fabulous, of course." Rachel grins. "Okay, Miss Amelia, what's next on the agenda?"

"Cake!" She jumps up and down, effectively showing that she truly does _not _need cake in her system.

"Before dinner, Amelia?" Kurt raises his eyebrows. Ugh, _dinner, _he hadn't even had time to plan a meal.

As if reading his mind, Blaine steps in. "Not to worry, there's Chinese on the kitchen counter." Kurt hadn't even noticed it. "Figured you wouldn't want to cook." Blaine shrugs.

"You are my favorite people," Kurt declares, kneeling down to give Amelia a kiss on the cheek. The look he catches on Blaine's face - the tiniest smile, maybe even a hint of color to his cheeks - makes Kurt's heart stutter.

"Okay. Food." Blaine claps his hands and goes into the kitchen, pulling various cartons of Chinese food and setting them on the counter. Amelia follows behind him, standing on her tippy-toes to try to get a finger full of the icing that covers the lopsided chocolate cake just out of her reach. Blaine reaches back and bats her hands away. "_After _you eat all your vegetables_, _Amelia."

"But Papaaaa…"

"Out, you." She pouts, but doesn't try again.

A voice sounds from behind him, and Kurt forces his gaze away from the kitchen, away from Blaine. "Sooo, what do you think?" Rachel asks eagerly, smoothing out the hideous skirt she wears as she sits down on the couch. Kurt follows suit.

"I didn't know you were on speaking terms with Blaine," he says in place of an answer.

Rachel shrugs. "I wasn't really, until now, but he called this morning and mentioned that you might want me to come over. Making a cake and decorating _and_ taking care of Amelia might have been a bit much to deal with anyway." Kurt has to agree - she's enough to deal with when you _don't _have other things to do. "It wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be, actually, he was perfectly polite. He seems to be doing well today. I mean, judging by what you've told me."

Kurt twists his head to look at Blaine, piling paper plates high with fried rice and eggrolls. Vegetarian, by the looks of it, which is the only kind Kurt will order when it comes to Chinese takeout, after a nasty bout of food poisoning years ago. Apparently, Blaine remembers, too - that shouldn't make his heart flip-flop the way it does, but, well. "Yeah. Yeah, he is, isn't he?" His eyes are bright and alert in a way Kurt isn't used to seeing, and he's quicker to smile. It's slow going, but it seems like the counseling sessions are helping somewhat. He's reluctant to talk to Kurt some days, but Naomi has told him that Blaine is opening up more easily every week.

"Maybe you really are helping him."

In the kitchen, Amelia says something that Kurt can't quite make out, but it makes Blaine laugh softly, looking at his daughter with tender eyes. He doesn't know why all this is overwhelming him so much, this simple gesture of kindness, but it is. Maybe because this is the first glimpse of _Blaine _he has seen in ages, the real Blaine that _would _throw childish, impromptu birthday parties without a second thought. His Blaine. _No, not mine, _he corrects himself, but the sentiment is the same. "Maybe."

* * *

><p>Food is consumed quickly, little conversation passing between the four of them. Even Amelia eats every bite on her plate with the promise of cake looming over them. And a glorious cake it is, reportedly made by Amelia with help from Rachel. She's very proud of it, and as they all sit around the coffee table in the living room eating it, Kurt can't stop smiling.<p>

"That was _wonderful_, Amelia," Kurt says, wiping his fingers off on a napkin and straightening the paper crown on his head. "By far the best birthday party yet."

"Not done yet!" She says, muffled through a mouthful of cake, a few brown crumbs sticking to her face until Blaine wipes them away with his napkin.

Kurt raises his eyebrows and glances around the room, as if the paper chains offer some clue to her next surprise. "What more could there _possibly _be?"

Amelia swallows and then leans over to Blaine, whispering something into his ear. When he nods, she jumps up and yells, "_Dance party!" _Kurt stares as Rachel presses _play _on the stereo, some dance tune he vaguely recognizes from years ago booming over the speakers. "Come on, Daddy, dance!"

"Yeah, _Kurt, _dance!" Rachel teases.

"Oh my _god!_" He half-groans, half-laughs. Amelia tugs on his hand to pull him up. Her version of dancing consists mostly of jumping up and down, sometimes spinning in circles, laughing all the while. Kurt can't remember the last time he danced, and he isn't sure what to _do _at first. Rachel pulls Blaine up off the couch before dancing over to Kurt, grabbing his hand and twirling herself in a circle.

"Loosen up!" She grins. "Come on, I've seen your moves."

"_Rachel_…."

"Dance, daddy!" Amelia has Blaine bouncing around with her, and he looks just as unsure as Kurt does. Kurt catches Blaine's eye and grins, finally giving in to the upbeat, absurdly catchy song and shimmying his shoulders, going right back to all his default dance moves. Some things never change. Blaine laughs, and when Amelia tries to twirl him in a circle he goes along with it, even crouching down to duck under her arm.

It's ridiculous and more fun than Kurt can remember having in years, and soon he loses track of how long they've been dancing as the song gives way to a new one, and then another, an entire playlist of dance music. He stays close to Rachel, playfully grinding up on her until they both dissolve into fits of giggles - he doesn't quite dare to try to dance with Blaine. Amelia goes back and forth between the three of them, not letting anyone be left out of the fun.

It's as if he's stepped into the past, back when life was music and dancing and all of his problems were much smaller, and he gives into it completely.

* * *

><p>Eventually, Rachel has to head home (after an attempted impromptu singalong to <em>Push It,<em> which Kurt has to put a premature end to, for fear of the wrath of the old lady in the apartment above him), and Amelia's eyes are drooping as she yawns. Blaine scoops her up into his arms to take her to bed, despite her insistence that she isn't sleepy.

"Was it the best birthday, Daddy?" She mumbles, half asleep and snuggled up close to Blaine.

"The best ever. I love you, sweetheart." he says. He kisses her forehead and smoothes her hair back, and she sighs happily as Blaine takes her back to her room.

"See you soon?" Rachel asks, buttoning up her coat.

"Of course. Come over anytime."

Once she leaves, Kurt collapses on the couch, not even bothering to turn off the music, just lying there in the suddenly empty room. It _was _a good birthday after all.

Kurt opens his eyes when he hears footsteps, Blaine reentering the room. "That was quick."

"Yeah, she was out as soon as she hit the pillow. For once."

"Thanks."

Blaine waves a hand. "I thought this might be a nice moment for champagne or wine or something, but I figured you wouldn't appreciate it." His smile is lopsided, but quickly disappears when he sees Kurt flinch. "Oh. Too soon?"

"A little." To be honest, even the smell of alcohol makes him gag a little.

"Sorry."

He starts picking up the paper plates they'd opted to eat off, scooping up the mess that Amelia had made. "Oh, let me help." Kurt pushes himself up.

"Hm?" Blaine glances up. "Oh, no, I got it, don't worry."

"I don't mind -"

"You're not cleaning up after your own birthday party. Seriously, don't get up!"

Kurt lets himself fall back down onto the couch with a light thump. "Goodness. I'm not used to this." He watches as Blaine wanders around the room, cleaning as he goes. The music playing over the speakers is softer now, going from the bouncy dance numbers to something a bit gentler, and Kurt can't remember feeling more relaxed, his feet propped up and his arms behind his head, eyes following Blaine's every movement. When he bends over to pick up what confetti he can, his t-shirt rides up on his back, exposing a thin strip of skin. Kurt's throat is suddenly dry. "Why?" He blurts out, and when Blaine gives him a quizzical look, he elaborates. "I mean, why did you go to all this trouble just for my birthday?"

"It's really no big deal."

"Not that I don't appreciate it, but - I don't know, I just don't understand."

"What is there to understand? Just trying to be nice." The irony is not lost on Kurt; this cynical man who has been screwed over by his loved ones over and over, unable to understand the concept of _not _doing something just to be nice. Kurt is still a little baffled, if only by Blaine's apparent whole-hearted involvement in the endeavor - yes, they're on speaking terms, but he can't say they're on the _best_ terms even now. Blaine turns around and shrugs, still having trouble meeting Kurt's eyes. "No, I… well, for one thing, I'm having a good day, as far as, you know, that goes for me, so I wanted to do _something _with it. And Amelia really, really wanted to do this for you - most of it was her idea. And I know I've been… a lot to deal with lately, so…" The way he mumbles and stammers makes it impossible to stop the dazed grin spreading on Kurt's face. "It's not much, but I wanted to do something to say… thanks. For putting up with my bullshit."

Days like this are the best and the worst, Kurt decides. Of course, happy Blaine is wonderful, and a bit like an expensive treat that you only get on special occasions. It makes it too easy to imagine that they've gone back to happier times. And of course, that is the very reason days like these are also the worst. Because back in happier times, Kurt would have pulled Blaine into a kiss without thinking twice. Maybe pressed him into the couch cushions and held him down and - no, he can't think that way anymore, but days like this make that hard. Such a huge part of his life has been spent loving Blaine that's it's like instinct, now. If only it were as simple as that.

"It's… okay, right?" Blaine asks, drawing Kurt out of his thoughts.

"Hmm? Of course it is! God, I can't even remember the last time I just did something whimsical."

"Me either."

Kurt smiles up at him, his limbs heavy and sleepy as he stretches out on the couch. "Thank you, Blaine," he says softly. "It really does mean a lot that you would do all this for me." Blaine's face turns bright red, and he mumbles something unintelligible as he sits down on the arm of the couch.

The music goes on, and Kurt strains his ears to hear the quiet lyrics. "Where having I heard this song? It's driving me crazy."

"I think we danced to it at prom. Or homecoming. One of those dances."

"It was homecoming!" He remembers this song now, and the way he had swayed in Blaine's arms, the rest of the Glee club all around but the two of them in their own little world. "Oh my god, this song is ancient history now. We're old."

"Don't say that!"

"_Old._" Why does it feel so natural, sitting here, chatting, and _teasing _with Blaine? After everything, and how difficult it's been since the beginning of this mess - shouldn't it be weird now? He doesn't want to think about it too much, but even so.

But then Blaine is standing and reaching out a hand, and sounding painfully shy, he says, "May I have this dance?"

For a moment, Kurt feels frozen, mouth dry, staring at the hand stretching out toward him. He swallows the thick lump in his throat. "Blaine, my feet are about to fall off," he groans, but it doesn't ring true, he's all too aware of how his voice shakes.

"Just once? I didn't get to dance with you tonight." He wiggles his fingers playfully, but eyes give away his own nervousness. Neither of them knows what they're doing here.

Kurt's eyes flick over to the stereo, and he can't help but smile a little. "And was there any particular reason why our homecoming song happens to be at the end of a playlist previously made up of happy-go-lucky dance tunes?"

If Blaine looked embarrassed before it's nothing compared to now. He clears his throat, hand falling a little. "Well. Maybe I was… hoping to get a dance with you. Never mind, I'll stop being weird now, I'll just -"

Kurt reaches out and grasps Blaine's hand (for half a second his finger brushes Blaine's wrist, and a scar etched there, and sucks in a sharp breath), pulling himself up and off the couch. "One dance," he says, voice low. Blaine ducks his head and smiles, and Kurt's stomach flip-flops. He ignores the feeling, looping his arms around Blaine's neck as Blaine's hands hesitantly find their place on Kurt's hips, big and warm and solid. It takes them a moment to find the rhythm of the song, and even when they do, they don't move much - small steps, mostly swaying in place.

"Thanks," Blaine mumbles.

"Thank _you,_" Kurt counters. At the confused tilt of Blaine's head, he adds, "For today. Just… thank you. I really needed this."

"Anytime," Blaine says, gaining confidence and gripping Kurt's hips a little tighter, and without thinking - he can't _let _himself think or this will end all too soon - Kurt shifts a little closer in return. It's too warm in the room, or maybe that's just the heat of Blaine's body - either way, the air is thick.

They don't speak for a little while, letting the soft music wash over them, and Kurt slowly finds himself relaxing, falling back into the familiarity of this. He can tell that Blaine feels the same, body losing the tension that is always present in it these days, the pad of his thumb rubbing absent circles just above Kurt's hipbone, probably not even realizing that he's doing it. It should scare Kurt how easy this is but it doesn't, if anything the light touch makes Kurt boneless in the circle of Blaine's arms.

He finds himself sagging against Blaine, fatigue finally catching up with him, arms wrapped tighter around Blaine's shoulders to hold himself up as they sway. "This is nice," he sighs, sleepy and content.

"Yeah. It is."

"I missed it." He's only half-aware that he says it, the only sign that it was heard Blaine's sharp breath. Blaine's breath is warm where it puffs against his neck, and Kurt shivers and lets his forehead drop down to Blaine's shoulder, just for a moment. He doesn't know when they got this close, but they're practically pressed flush together now.

"You look beautiful tonight," Blaine whispers, and as tranquil as Kurt feels, it takes him a moment to register the barest press of Blaine's lips on his neck, where the drumbeat of his heart moves strong and quick. When the kisses grow more firm he freezes, head shooting up from where it rests against Blaine's broad shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he whispers, voice sharper than he ever intended. Blaine hums and kisses a little higher on his neck in place of an answer. "_Blaine._"

"Kissing you."

"We can't."

"Why not?" Blaine mumbles, lips still skimming against Kurt's skin, face tucked into the crook of his neck as he keeps on pressing kisses there like the taste of him is intoxicating.

"_God,"_ Kurt breathes out, shallow and shaky - he can feel every hint of touch on his sensitive skin. It all makes Kurt want to squirm, want to press closer still and just _let _him. It would be easy to let this happen, to let go; he _wants _it. Doesn't he deserve this, to feel good?

The fear that courses through him along with the desire answers the question for him. "We have to stop." Kurt closes his eyes so that he doesn't have to see the hurt surely crossing Blaine's face. He doesn't move to push Blaine away, but he doesn't have to. Blaine exhales slowly and draws back, the places where his lips touched Kurt tingling. "Blaine, we…"

"I know." They're still close enough that Kurt feels Blaine's voice more than hears it, making his whole body respond, a shiver running down the length of his spine. This is all his fault, he let this happen - dancing with Blaine, god, how many times had they danced like this _before? _How could it ever turn into anything but this? Now he can't find the strength to push Blaine away even though he has to. "I'm sorry," Blaine says, resting his forehead against Kurt's temple.

"It's not that I don't… _want _it." He doesn't know why he admits that, didn't have any obligation to reveal it, but it's out there now. He lets his fingers card through the loose hair at the nape of Blaine's neck, holding him there even though he should be moving away, which is surely not improving the situation. He doesn't stop, though, because this has to end soon and with any luck it won't happen again and Kurt can feel his eyes burning at the very thought of that as he chokes out, "I'm _sorry, _but honey, we just _can't._"

"I know," Blaine repeats. The music and the dancing have long since stopped, and if the air around and between them was thick before it's crackling with tension now, begging them to breach the gap. Blaine turns his head, his nose bumping and sort of nuzzling against Kurt's cheek as he touches their foreheads together, and his eyelids tickle as they flutter shut. "I know, I just. I needed…" He trails off, and there's another telltale flutter of his eyelids and Kurt know that Blaine is staring at his lips. Never before has Kurt been so aware of being within kissing distance of someone. It would hardly take any movement, just leaning forward ever so slightly.

And that's exactly what Blaine does. A dry press of the lips, almost chaste, too quick and sudden for Kurt to return. A second, and then the third long and slow enough that Kurt can kiss back, just for a moment. He can't not. There was never any way he could resist this.

"Sorry," Blaine says, voice rough as he pulls back with a wet sound that makes Kurt shiver. "I'm stopping." He starts to pry his hands from Kurt's hips, but before he can Kurt brings his hands up to cradle Blaine's jaw, pulling him in for another kiss.

Where Blaine's kisses were brief, almost asking for permission, Kurt _takes _everything Blaine has to give and more_. _He opens his mouth and sucks the sounds from Blaine's tongue, the little whimpers of surprise and _want_. And they _can't, _is the thing, Kurt _can't do this, _but that doesn't stop him from needing it, and apparently from _doing _it. "Please," Blaine manages to get out when Kurt comes up, briefly, for air, and neither of them knows what he's begging for but Kurt gives it anyway. Because there is nothing in the world that could keep him from needing this, and Blaine is here and warm and beautiful, and his lips are a mix of Chinese food and chocolate cake that shouldn't be as tantalizing as it is. Tomorrow when he isn't giddy off rare happiness and touching Blaine again, he will hate himself for it.

"Tell me to stop," Kurt says. His voice is high as Blaine kisses up the line of his jaw, even the scratch of a five o'clock shadow feeling incredible. He's not in control, and it's so scary he doesn't know what to do but give in to it. "You have to tell me to stop."

"No."

Kurt _whimpers_, and it's a little pathetic, but any resolve he had - little - has vanished now. It was always going to be this. _One last time, _he promises himself. One last time to get whatever this is out of his system and maybe, just maybe, he can be over this for good.

He steps back far enough to take Blaine's hand, to lead him down the hall, to drag him into the bedroom and shut the door and push him hard against it before their lips find each other again.

And they don't stop.


	12. And I Never Wanted Anything From You

**A/N: **No sex scene, sorry - I did want to write one, but I just couldn't come up with any inspiration! Plus, this is super long (for me) already. But there will be smut later, this I promise.

* * *

><p><em>The balcony again, it's always the balcony, and he can feel the wind through his clothes like a thousand icy needles. Blaine balances on the railing though it seems like the wind itself should push him off, bare feet and legs blue with cold.<em>

"_Don't!" Kurt tries to yell, but he can't tell if he actually makes a sound, if Blaine can hear him at all - the wind blows the sound away as soon as it falls from his lips._

"_Save me." Blaine says, his face and voice devoid of all emotion, more terrifying than if he were screaming or crying. "Save me, Kurt."_

"_I'm trying, I swear -" He can't move, feet frozen to the floor, and he knows that if he could _move _he could stop what he knows is about to happen. This is his dream, yet he can't control it._

"_Try harder."_

"_I will! I swear I will, please, just -"_

_Blaine closes his eyes and tips backwards._

Kurt wakes up with a gasp, but to his relief he is aware of what's happening, that he was dreaming, and can calm down immediately. He stares straight ahead at the window, barely lit with the dawn light, and takes deep, even breaths, trying to slow the beating of his heart.

When awareness of the world around him starts to seep in, his first thought is that it's far too warm, even with the blankets tangled around his feet and halfway falling off the bed. Even with no blankets there's still something covering him, something warm and heavy across his waist that radiates heat.

"Oh my god!" He sits up ramrod straight, knocking the arm that had wrapped around him off to the side, staring wide-eyed at the body next to him. Blaine's hair looks like it could house a few baby birds, and there's a little bit of drool at the edge of his lips as he groans and blinks his eyes open, blearily staring at Kurt. And they are both very naked.

"Shit," Kurt whispers - he remembers now, everything about last night. Remembers dragging Blaine into the bedroom, undressing him, remembers Blaine's mouth all over him, and even if he _didn't _remember what came next the familiar soreness he feels leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination "Shit, shit, shit."

"Good morning to you too," Blaine mumbles, rubbing his face with the back of his hand. He sits up and tries to pull the blankets back over their naked bodies, but they're too tangled, so he gives up and flops back down onto the pillows.

Kurt doesn't know what to do - he can feel himself start to panic as he stares at the man lying next to him. What can he do? He slept with Blaine. No, he'd slept with _his ex-husband, ex _being the key word. What on Earth could he have possibly been _thinking? _After all these weeks of telling himself _no, don't get too close, don't let him hurt you again, _he had gone and done this, like Blaine was just another one night stand. That's the worst part of it, he thinks miserably. He feels so _cheap _in a way that he never gave himself a chance to feel with other hookups.

Not that it wasn't good - _god, _it was, as if it could be anything short of mind-blowing. Sex with other men is fine but simply that: _just sex_, something Kurt thought he could never feel about something that should leave him open and vulnerable.

But sex with Blaine, _oh._ Sex with _Blaine _is the closest he'll ever come to believing in some higher power. Blaine takes him apart with every touch and puts him back together again with kisses. Blaine still knows Kurt's body as intimately as his own, maybe even more so, and he touches Kurt as if he is something to be worshiped.

It's the same now as it was when they were seventeen, and it's scary.

Blaine catches Kurt staring and props himself up on his elbows, head tilted to the side and eyes, still bleary from sleep, looking at him in concern. "Are you okay?"

Kurt shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak without bursting into tears. _One last time, _he'd told himself; what an _idiot _he'd been. Now all he wants is to snuggle back into Blaine's arms and maybe go on for round two. One push was all it had taken and now he can't just go back to the distance they had before, not with the memory of Blaine's skin against his so fresh in his mind.

"What's wrong?" Blaine sits up, finally managing to pull the sheet over his lap, and watches as Kurt scrambles off the bed, searching the floor for his discarded clothes, at _least _his underwear.

One night of Blaine being himself, being kind to him for once, and all of his weak defenses had crumbled. "I can't do this." He chokes out - it's a lie, he _can _and he _wants _to, but his fear strangles any notion of that. He can't. He just can't.

"Do what? Kurt…?"

"This!" He finished pulling on his boxer-briefs and gestures wildly at Blaine. "This, you, _us._"

Blaine's mouth falls open in a silent _Oh._ "I - I thought…" his brow furrows. "I thought that maybe we… were okay now."

Another shake of the head. "No. No, we're not, _I'm _not. One one-night-stand does not make us _okay._"

The hurt that passes over Blaine's face makes Kurt physically ill. "Is that all it was to you?" He asks quietly - he looks so small, so exposed, and it breaks Kurt's heart. Kurt doesn't answer, doesn't _have _an answer. He grabs a random shirt from the floor - it's Blaine's, he tosses it onto the bed where Blaine catches it without looking and crumples it up in his hands. Kurt turns around and goes to his closet, searching for something, anything to wear, but freezes when Blaine says, "You said you love me."

Kurt feels his chest tighten. He can't breathe. "What?"

"Weeks ago. I didn't dream it, you _said so._"

"You were drunk," Kurt says as if that's a legitimate excuse, fighting to keep his voice calm.

"_You_ weren't."

"Blaine…"

"It's not like I planned this," Blaine says. "I didn't think, _hey, I'll throw the dorkiest birthday party in history and I am going to get _laid _tonight._ Don't make me feel like shit about this, it was just as much to do with you as me."

"I _can't._" His hands tremble until he clenches his fists at his side. "I'm not trying to make you feel like shit, I don't want _that, _I just… I was lonely and… vulnerable and you were saying such wonderful things and - and you were _there_. I'm sorry."

Blaine stares at him, and Kurt can see it, the way he retreats into himself. The Blaine of last night fades away, goes back into his shell and leaves him cold again. Being the one to put that look on Blaine's face makes Kurt feel like the worst person in the entire world. "That's all?"

No, he wants to say. _No, no, you are everything to me_ _don't go don't let me do this to you don't let me let you go again please_. "I'm sorry," he whispers instead.

Blaine climbs out of bed, gets dressed in yesterday's clothes while Kurt sits down and makes himself hold back his tears until Blaine is out of sight. "Okay, then," Blaine says, and leaves the room. He doesn't even slam the door, and that makes it even worse. Kurt wants him to be angry. He wants Blaine to scream in his face and reinforce what a shitty person he is, anything is better than just _accepting _it.

There have been so many times since taking Blaine in that he'd had to do everything in his power to keep from crying. Now, as soon as the door shuts, a quiet sob escapes Kurt's lips, and he covers his mouth and hides his face in his hands as his shoulders shake to keep more back.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, miserable and hating everything about himself, but he becomes aware of the world around him when the doorbell rings.

Kurt breathes in deep, shudders, and wipes his eyes. He doesn't know where Blaine is right now or if he'll bother to answer the door, so he stands up and finishes pulling on his pants, putting on his fakest smile and getting ready to face real life. Right now, it's all he can do.

* * *

><p>The woman standing in his kitchen, all high-heeled boots and a dress that isn't the least bit suitable for the weather and a faux-fur coat, hugging a stunned Blaine, is the last person he expects to see. Amelia, sitting at the table with a piece of toast in front of her, stares at Santana with the same expression that Kurt is sure is on his own face.<p>

"Heyyyy, Ladyface!" Santana releases Blaine and tugs Kurt into her arms, the embrace brief and almost sisterly. "It's been a hell of a long time."

"Yes it has." Kurt shoots a glance at Blaine, who shrugs helplessly, though he looks a little happier for her presence. She was always Blaine's friend more than Kurt's even though he'd known her much longer, but neither of them had seen her in years. No one had as far as he knew. "Where have you been?"

"Here and there." She waves a hand and looks around the room. "Nice little place. This the kiddo?"

"Yeah." Blaine puts on a smile. "Amelia, you probably don't remember Auntie Santana, do you?"

She shakes her head, eyes wide and looking uncharacteristically shy, and Santana laughs. "Hey, cutie-pie. You were still teeny-tiny last time I saw you." She holds her hands a vague distance apart, about the size of Amelia at two years old. Had it really been that long since Santana had surfaced? She calls Blaine regularly, but that doesn't quite count. She does this a lot, has been doing it since graduation - disappearing and travelling wherever she could and then dropping in on some former member of New Direction's doorstep with no one knowing where she had been for all those years. "Well, I guess you're still teeny-tiny, but so is your dad, so it makes sense." Amelia giggles, and with that, Santana has her approval. "Still weird to think about you guys being dads."

"Not that we don't welcome your presence," Kurt says, "but how exactly did you find me? You haven't visited before I moved." It had been Blaine she visited, in truth; Kurt hadn't seen her since before the divorce. He supposes it was fair - Blaine had to have _some _support system after that whole mess.

"The hobbit told me. Well, the _other _hobbit." She winks at Blaine and takes a seat at one of the barstools, crossing her legs and stretching out like a cat. "Couldn't find Blaine at his place, so I tracked down Berry and she said that he would be here, so here I am. Why the fu- oops, children present, sorry - why the _fudge _are you here anyway, Blainers? You and Twinkletoes finally get back together or something?"

"I'm right here, you know," Kurt snaps.

Blaine shifts uncomfortably. "Uh, no, we're… not." he mumbles, and Kurt can feel his face turn red. "It's… a long story."

"I got all the time in the world." She raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow. She hasn't changed much, over the years. Not as far as Kurt can see.

Santana Lopez suddenly waltzing back into his life is not exactly what he had on the agenda today, not before his first cup of coffee, and he feels exhausted just thinking about it. "It's wonderful to see you, Santana, really but - it's just not a very good time." He smiles shakily.

Santana, however, only looks at Blaine. She stands up, towering over Blaine in those ridiculous shoes. "C'mon, Blainers," she says. "I'm taking you out." He hesitates, a moment too long. "Boy, Hummel still has you on a tight leash." As if Kurt's not even listening.

"It's not that," he snaps. "I just can't go to a bar or anything."

"Damn boy, bit early for that, don't you think? You're buying me coffee, duh." She takes him by the arm, grins and waves at Kurt over her shoulder as she drags Blaine out the door. Like a tornado, she swoops in and back out, and leaves Kurt flustered and confused in the way only she can do.

Amelia tugs on his arm, jolting him out of his thoughts. "Daddy, I'm done with breakfast." He's impressed to look down and see an empty plate.

"Good girl. Why don't you watch cartoons for a while? I need to make a phone call."

"Okay!" She rushes off and Kurt snatches up his phone, automatically dialing Rachel's number.

When she answers, her voice is fuzzy and muffled with sleep. "Kurt? 'S really early." She yawns.

"I slept with him," Kurt blurts out.

There is only silence, and shuffling on the other line. Kurt heads to his bedroom where he'll have more privacy, waiting for her to respond. "Um. With Blaine? Or are we reenacting _Cabaret, _because you got the line wrong -"

"Yes, with Blaine, what other man could I have been with last night?" He hisses.

"Well, I don't know! You've managed to get around pretty well in the past!" He falls face first on the bed and groans into the pillow. Rachel sighs and continues. "Okay, so I'm assuming this is a bad thing?"

"Uh, yes? What part of _I slept with my ex-husband and then basically told him it was a mistake _don't you understand?"

"It's far too early for you to be this bitchy."

"I don't know what to do, Rachel."

She yawns loudly. "What happened?"

"He was just - being so _sweet _and he danced with me and I let my guard down and… god I was such a little _shit _this morning."

"Well, at least you were honest with him. Wait, it _was _a mistake, right?"

"Yes - no - I don't know. But now I'm freaking out and…. I can't do it, I can't let this happen."

She stays silent for a long time, mulling it over. "I don't know, Kurt. If it was such a bad idea why did you let it happen?"

He sighs and rolls over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The sheets and pillows still smell like Blaine's sweat and it's really, _really _not helping him focus. "Why do you think?"

"Obviously you still have feelings for him."

"Give the girl a medal." It should feel like a relief to admit it aloud, but no. It just makes him ache. "It's hard," he whispers, not sure if she can hear him when he's being this quiet, not caring. "It's so hard having him here, more than I thought it would be, and - and him and Amelia and I together again, it's just - too much like before, and now _this _and I can't -" He breaks off with a sob that he tries to hold back, closing his eyes tight against another onslaught of tears. If there's anyone he can cry over the phone with, it's Rachel Berry, but that doesn't mean he _wants _to cry any more today.

"It's a reminder of everything you lost, isn't it?" Rachel finishes for him. He can _hear _the 'I told you so' trying to break through her voice - she practically _did _tell him so, after all - and the fact that she doesn't let it through makes him love her even more.

"I'm sorry, I'm being stupid."

"No you're not." She insists. Kurt wipes his eyes and the tears stop, and he knows that no more will come for now. If only because he's cried all he physically can today. His chest is tight as he takes deep breaths, slowly calming himself. Being hysterical isn't going to help him, Blaine, or anyone. "Sooo, you have feelings for each other. What exactly is the problem?"

Kurt swallows past the thick lump in his throat. "I'm scared." He finally answers. "He… he _hurt _me, Rachel, and - I don't think he would do it again, I really don't, but I…" He pauses, trying to organize his muddled thoughts. "He's the one person who should never have done that. I don't even _hate _him for it anymore, but how can I trust him, how can I - how could we just go back to how things were? After all the ways we've hurt each other."

Rachel stays silent, seeming to know that Kurt needs to _talk _more than be talked at. Kurt has never been more glad that she _finally _grew out of that habit of making each and every situation all about her. He goes on, narrating his own inner monologue. "He was so disappointed. I feel like such an asshole." Kurt groans and rubs his tired eyes with the back of his hand - he's finally stopped crying, but it drained him. And he still has to get through the rest of the day. "I'm supposed to be here to help him, aren't I? I mean, that's the whole point of this. If… if this is what he needs, shouldn't I be able to do that for him?"

This gets her talking. "Oh no no no," she says, forceful enough to startle him. "Don't even start that."

"What?"

"If you want to get back together, it has to be about _you. _About both of you, and what you two want. Not Blaine's problems, not a way to _solve _them, because it won't."

"Rachel, I'm not even sure I do want to get back together."

"Then don't let anything else happen until you _are _sure."

He closes his eyes, letting the silence drag on a moment. "I just don't know what to do," he repeats in a whisper.

"Three options. One - you tell him that you're not interested, that you can't be together, whatever you have to do to let him off the hook." Cowardly, Kurt thinks, but effective. "Two - you agree to take things slow and see where this goes."

"Mmhm." Somehow, that doesn't make things easier. He doesn't want to hurt Blaine - too late for that, he supposes - but he doesn't want to _get _hurt either.

"Or three - you say 'screw it' and tap that like I know you really want to."

That finally makes Kurt burst into laughter, sharp and almost painful where it lodges in his chest, but in a _good _way_. _He knows that he won't follow that advice, but even so. "You always know what to say. Why don't I just marry you, Rachel?"

"Because we know from experience that when we live together we end up wanting to tear each other's hair out."

"And our children would be freakishly loud."

"Pretty, though."

He smiles softly, though his brief amusement is tinged with sadness. "I don't know how to do this without making him feel worse."

Rachel sighs. "I don't know, Kurt, but you do need to think about yourself sometimes, too."

"…What?"

"Do you even have a life outside of Blaine anymore?"

"Rach, that's not fair. I'm trying to help!"

"I know, but you're allowed to have a life!"

That makes him bristle, his affection for her vanishing in an instant. How dare she, how _dare _she, when all he's ever done is try to make Blaine better, do the right thing… "Thank you for your advice. Bye."

"Kurt, stop." He pauses with his thumb over the _end call _button. "I'm not trying to be mean, I'm just being honest. It's wonderful that you still care so much about him, seeing as you have every right not to. I just don't want you to get yourself hurt." She sighs. "Do you need me to come over? Maybe this is beyond eating tubs of ice cream and watching _Twilight, _but…"

He sniffles, laughs softly though it's painful to do so. "No. No, I'm okay. Well, I will be okay, someday."

They hang up soon after - there is real life to see to, a child to take care of, chores and all those other things that come with being an adult that won't wait for him to finish his pity party. Amelia seems to know what he needs, somehow, and when she wraps him up in a hug without any sort of prompt, he can't help but squeeze her tight for as long as she'll let him. And even though he feels like crumbling to pieces, all the walls he'd slowly built around himself threatening to fall - after that, he can straighten his spine, lift his chin, and stand tall. He faces it.

Anything less would be giving in.

* * *

><p>"What's got you so edgy, Blanderson?"<p>

He doesn't even react to the old nickname, maybe because he _is_ too edgy. The coffee shop Santana dragged him to is loud and bustling with activity, and all of it overwhelms him as he orders their coffee, plus a decadent looking cupcake for Santana. He hasn't been out of the apartment much since he fell off the wagon those few weeks ago. Hasn't needed to - Blaine hasn't worked for a little less than a year now, was too drunk when he got laid off to give a shit, so mostly he stays at Kurt's apartment - and hasn't trusted himself not to take a detour to the nearest corner liquor store. He's alone most of the day, but sometimes that's a good thing, even though it seems to have just worsened his anxiety - he'll need to work on that, maybe consider those group therapy sessions Naomi told him about, though he'd rather not deal with anyone. He could spend every minute of the day with Amelia, sure, but with most anyone else, with _Kurt_ - that's a whole other story.

Especially now - after last night, _god._ The way Kurt had looked at him this morning, his ocean eyes so full of - well, thousands of emotions all in one, but namely fear. Fear piercing though the brief moment of happiness Blaine had built for himself while swaying in the circle of Kurt's arms and falling to pieces under his lips and hands - happiness he knew couldn't last but he let happen anyway. Fucking stupid.

"Blainers?"

He blinks and shakes his head. Santana stares at him from across the table, studying him like he's a particularly interesting sculpture. How does he even begin to talk to her when it's been ages since she even bothered to check in? That itself is nothing new but these are the times when he needs a best friend. He reminds himself that she had no way of knowing what was going on and at least she's back now, but still… "Sorry. Million miles away."

"Obviously." She takes a drink of her coffee ("_Black," _she'd purred, "_like my men," _and winked at Blaine, who mouthed '_ignore her_' to the flustered barista) and crosses her legs underneath the table, tipping the chair slightly back. Blaine swirls his own drink around in the cup, but doesn't bother to sip it. "You used to be so much more talkative."

"What do you want me to talk about?"

She shrugs. "I don't care. Hmmm. Oh, tell me why you've shacked up with Hummel if you're not back together yet. You said it was a long story, so it should keep you out of the house until the stench of awkwardness wears off."

"What makes you think things are awkward?"

"You're living with your ex-husband."

She has a point. He sighs and looks away. Relating everything that has happened these past years to Naomi is one thing. He likes Naomi well enough but she's essentially a stranger, and it's her job to listen to him ramble and not judge him. There's a weird level of trust to it. Santana is the most judgmental person he has ever met, bless her heart. True, she had listened to him drunkenly confess to slapping Kurt and barely batted an eyelash, just continued on with her bizarrely harsh method of comfort. But he has no doubt that if he hadn't been such an obvious mess that night, showing up uninvited to her apartment after Kurt kicked him out, that she would have judged the hell out of him. Not that she wouldn't be right to.

"Jeez, Blaine, what's so awful that you can't even talk to me about it?" She asks.

"It's not that," he says, even though it kind of is. She had known how messed up he was after the breakup and she still went off travelling again, with only a few phone calls mostly consisting of her ranting about wherever she'd ended up this time. She really has no idea who he is anymore. It's just weird, is all. "I just… don't really know where to begin." He runs his fingers through his wild hair - he hadn't had a chance to do anything with before she dragged him off; it probably still resembles a large bird nest. "A _lot _of shit has happened since you've been gone, Tana."

"So _spill, _I'm getting bored."

"I tried to kill myself," he blurts out.

She chokes on her drink, barely avoiding spitting it out. "_What?_"

"Yeah."

"No way. _You?_"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She gestures in his general direction in a way that really doesn't explain what she means at all. "_You! _You're like, the jolliest hobbit in the Shire."

He bites out a laugh at that. "I'm really not."

"Shit. When did this happen?"

"A few weeks ago." He circles his finger around the edge of his cup, eyes following the motion. "That's why I'm staying with Kurt, I - I didn't have anyone else. He's trying to… rehabilitate me, I guess, god knows why. And I don't really, um, trust myself not to fuck up again if I go back home, so." He shrugs.

"Hey. If I had known…"

Blaine shakes his head. "You couldn't have."

"You should have called me…"

"I didn't even know where you were."

"I'd have come and gotten you, you didn't have to go home with _Hummel, _shit, that must have been weird."

"And you'd have taken me where exactly?"

She doesn't have an answer for that one, finally falling silent for a moment, and the whole thing frustrates him. He doesn't want another person being _sympathetic. _He doesn't want her to be different around him because of this. "I never even knew you were depressed." She says, still sounding like she can't quite believe it. No one had, no one ever notices. He supposes that he has always been good at putting up a façade, good at putting on a smile and active brave when inside he's anything but - until recently. Now it's as if every emotion is out there for everyone to see, and maybe that's why he's having trouble with this coffee shop and the crowd of people around him. If they only choose to look his way, they will see _everything _wrong with him and run away screaming.

"As long as I can remember." Blaine answers, staring down at the table. "I guess I didn't realize it when we were kids, I just thought it was regular teen angst and I had _Kurt _so, you know, I was too focused on all the good things I had to notice that anything was wrong. It's only gotten really bad the past few years, though, after the crap with my parents."

She nods, watching him closely in a way that makes him sort of squirm in his seat. "There's more," she says after a moment.

"What?" He takes a sip of his coffee, which is starting to go cold.

"There's more to it. How long have you and Hummel been sleeping together?"

He chokes, nearly spitting the mouthful of coffee in her face. He swears she must practice making inappropriate comments right when someone has a mouthful of food or drink, though, he muses, it's not quite as bad as the first time he told Kurt he loved him; later Kurt had admitted that it had taken everything he had not to spew a scalding mocha right in his eye. And that is _not _what he should be thinking about right now. "We're not," he says after too long a pause.

"Oh, please. I'm like a shark. I can smell sex from a mile away, and you _reek, _Blanderson."

His face turns bright red, which he's sure isn't helping to fool her. "Fine - once, last night. That's it."

"Knew it!" She crows.

"And then he told me it was a mistake."

"…Awkward."

"Just a bit." He shoves his coffee away, all appetite forgotten. It's not as if anything has changed, he still doesn't have Kurt. So why does it hurt so much? He'd just been so _sure _last night that things were going to be okay again. "It doesn't matter.

"No," Santana says after a moment, startling him with the determination in her eyes, the kind that makes him want to hide under the table and maybe warn the innocent bystanders. "No, this is unacceptable. I always thought that out of all the fucked up combinations we came up with you two would be the ones to make it. No way am I going to let you give up on that boy."

"And how long has it been since you've seen Brittany, Santana?"

"Fuck you," she says, but her voice holds no malice, just bitterness. "I don't believe in fate or whatever, but you two are fuckin' _soul mates, _okay? So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to march right back into that apartment and knock some sense into Hummel -" She stands up and makes to walk out the door until he reaches out to touch her arm, the faux-fur of her coat soft on his fingers.

"Tana, _stop._"

She does, sitting back down and looking sullen, scowling at her coffee. "But -"

"No. He's made it perfectly clear that it was a mistake, so I'm leaving it at that. It's better this way." His throat tightens even as he says the words, trying to make himself believe them. "He - he deserves better, anyway, he needs someone better than me. Someone who isn't broken." He tries to smile, and can tell it isn't working. "I _want _him to have someone who makes him happy, and that isn't ever going to be me and… I have to be okay with that."

Even though he's the furthest thing from okay.

"You are _not_ broken," she insists, reaching out and grabbing his hand. She's not the touchy-feely type, so it doesn't last long, but he squeezes back for as long as she'll let him. "So what are you going to do now? I mean, it's going to be super weird staying with him now, isn't it?"

"I expect so."

"Are you going to stay?"

"Yeah, if he wants me to. I know I can't go home yet, I don't trust myself to be alone, so - yeah. I'm going to see this through." Blaine shrugs. It doesn't _have _to be weird, but he _knows _it will be.

"You should come with me," she says with a grin. "It's awesome, not having to be tied down anywhere."

"It sounds lonely." Sleeping in her van, busking on street corners, going anywhere they please - god, it sounds so tempting.

"Sometimes." She shrugs, as if it's no big deal, and to her it probably isn't - she's never needed people, never needed to please people the way he always has, she just doesn't care enough. "What do you say?"

He hesitates a moment. "I can't leave Amelia," he says softly - sometimes he thinks he needs _her _more than he needs Kurt, which is saying a lot when Kurt is what holds him together. "Otherwise I would."

"Yeah, that's what I figured." She sighs and slugs back the rest of her coffee in one gulp. "Just thought I'd try."

"Thanks," he says, and he means it - this morning he had barely been able to pretend that he was okay, but now he's calmer, more levelheaded. It all still hurts; of course it does, but just simmering under the surface now. He doesn't know how he'll feel when he gets back to the apartment, but Santana is a good distraction for now. "I'm glad you're back, Tana."

"For a minute, anyway." She smirks. "I'll stick around a bit for you, though."

"Yeah?"

"But only if you tell me all about how kinky Hummel is between the sheets -"

He bursts into genuine laughter, and it feels out of place bubbling up his throat. "The answer is still no, Santana."

"Prude," she says, rolling her eyes, but her smile is fond.

* * *

><p>By the time Blaine wanders back into the apartment, Kurt is cleaning up from the mess Amelia insisted on making with her dinner (she's taking a bubble bath now, soon he'll have to go make sure she picks out all the strands of spaghetti stuck in her hair.) He meets Blaine's eyes but then quickly looks away, feeling his cheeks heat up in a blush.<p>

He's calmer, now, after talking to Rachel, but yep, it's just as awkward as he expected. "You were gone a while," he comments, scrubbing a little harder at the kitchen table.

Blaine nods, looking uncomfortable standing in Kurt's kitchen, still bundled up from being out in the cold. "Yeah, we decided to stay out for a while. Make a day of it. Um, sorry for… not letting you know." He mumbles.

"It's fine, you don't have to tell me every time you want to go out."

"Oh. Well. Okay."

Kurt swallows. He still can't bring himself to look straight at Blaine, just focuses on the chore. Still, he can't keep his lips from moving. "For a minute there, I, um… I thought you might have… left."

"…Do you want me to leave?"

"No." The answer comes too fast to be anything but true, eyes still locked on the table, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing.

"Then I won't."

"Good. Okay."

Blaine moves a little closer, his brow furrowed as he watches Kurt. "Um… Kurt, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be fine?"

"You've been washing that spot for really long time. I think it's clean."

"Need to get the stain out." Kurt says through gritted teeth. He doesn't know why this is so hard, why Blaine's presence is flustering him so much. What can he even say? Why _wouldn't _Blaine leave after the way Kurt treated him? The relief he feels knowing that Blaine came back safely is too big to ignore, though, and it's not just because he was worried for Blaine. The thought of Blaine going home feels like a hand squeezing around his heart, and he knows why, he just doesn't want to admit it. "I'm _fine, _just - stop staring at me, I can't focus."

"…Okay."

Kurt imagines that he can hear crickets chirping in the distance; it's that kind of silence. He finally drops the washrag in his trembling hand, palms pressed flat against the table to steady himself. He can't be around Blaine without thinking about last night, though he knows that they need to forget it. For both their sakes. "Look, um," he begins, finally lifting his eyes to look into Blaine's. Better to get this over with before it festers between them any longer. "About last night."

Blaine's expression instantly shifts - he closes off, puts up his wall. "It's fine," he says quietly.

"No it's not, I was so rude -"

"It doesn't matter_._"

"I just panicked," Kurt goes on anyway, heedless of Blaine's words. "I freaked out and I took it out on you when I shouldn't have and I'm really, really sorry about how I handled things this morning."

Blaine stares at him for a moment, and then nods, still silent, as if waiting for more. Kurt swallows thickly and shifts around on his feet, looking anywhere other than at Blaine.

"The thing is," he stammers - he'd been practicing this in his head all day, but that doesn't make it easier. "Last night was - _so _wonderful but I shouldn't have lead you on - I mean, I'm just - not ready for that, and I don't know when I will be, so - I -"

"Kurt," Blaine says, voice strangely soft, and it makes Kurt fall silent. The look in Blaine's eyes is infinitely sad and Kurt's whole heart aches at the sight of it. He stays firm even though all he wants is to pull Blaine back into his arms and give in to this. "I get it. I don't blame you. You got caught up in the moment, and I - I misinterpreted… us. It doesn't matter." He repeats, not sounding at all convinced.

"But -"

"Let's just leave it at that, okay?" He steps past Kurt too fast to see what emotions might be visible in his face, disappearing from the kitchen. Kurt hears his footsteps grow fainter as he walks down the hall, probably going to find Amelia.

But of course it _matters_, Kurt thinks. Blaine wouldn't have been so upset this morning if it didn't matter. He was getting so _close, _so close to being able to get Blaine to talk to him, and now he's ruined everything. Again. One step forward, two steps back, and he doesn't know if they'll ever be able to make it stop.

He's so sick of being the one to put that look of disappointment on Blaine's face.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **...what? I couldn't let them be TOO happy!


	13. Tell Me What You Want Me To Say

Kurt supposes that things _could_ be more awkward, if he put some effort into it.

In the aftermath of their one good night, Blaine is quiet. He doesn't avoid Kurt, but he doesn't push either. He's cautious, stepping carefully around Kurt like he's walking on glass. He goes out for coffee with Santana whenever she decides to kidnap him, spends more time with Amelia than ever before, and while she loves it and Kurt is glad they make each other smile, he can't help but ache when Blaine sometimes spends whole days finding new ways to avoid him.

It's stupid to feel this way, because it's not _new, _it's just like when Blaine first came to stay here, but Kurt still feels like he's lost something even though he's back to square one. Like there's a Blaine-shaped hole he has to fill. That's not new, either, he's always been painfully aware of Blaine's absence in his life after so much time together, but now that he's let his guard down it's far more acute.

The look in Blaine's eyes when he thinks Kurt isn't watching, infinitely sad and looking exactly the way Kurt feels, doesn't help. He doesn't know how to fix things. And after Naomi gives him the update on Blaine's progress after the next therapy session - "Not so good this week, Mr. Hummel, something's bothering him but he doesn't seem to want to talk about it - just scoffed at me when I asked if maybe he could talk to you, so…" - he knows he has to do something.

The question is just _what. _And on that, he's stumped.

* * *

><p>He's in the process of reading <em>Harry Potter <em>to Amelia - she stops him every few minutes to ask what a word means, eyes alight with wonder whenever she learns something new, and sometimes she makes him stop so that she can try to sound out a few slow sentences of her own - while Blaine watches TV when the doorbell rings.

Kurt's lap is full of Amelia, snuggled up warm and close, and that doesn't show signs of change, so Blaine gets up. "Probably Santana, I'll get it." Kurt nods, going back to the book, where Harry is just discovering that he's going to Hogwarts. He can't see the door from where they're curled up on the couch, so he doesn't know who's there at first, until a familiar voice says, "Oh - I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong address - I'm looking for Kurt Hummel?"

Kurt lifts his head, the motion sharp and sudden. He knows that voice, or he's pretty sure he knows it. "Scoot over, sweetie," he murmurs to Amelia, who takes the book from his hands and climbs off his lap, quietly mouthing a word to herself as she keeps trying to read.

"Uh… no, yeah, he's here," Blaine says, voice tinged with confusion. "Kurt?" He calls out, but Kurt is already in the kitchen, and then standing next to Blaine by the door.

The man standing in the doorway is a half-inch taller than Kurt, with floppy brown hair and gray eyes, one hand held behind his back. He's dressed smart but casual, a button-up with no tie and slacks. His face lights up when he sees Kurt, his grin lopsided and easy.

"Neil," Kurt says, a little breathless - mostly with surprise. He likes Neil, he's a nice guy and great in bed but Kurt has no idea why he's shown up at Kurt's house. "Um - wow. Hi!"

"Hey." Neil runs his free hand through his hair, mussing it up in a way that should irritate Kurt, but it somehow doesn't. "Um. For you." From behind his back, he produces a small bouquet of flowers, a mass of different colors like he couldn't decide what Kurt would like, but the effect isn't bad.

Kurt takes them, a little stunned. "Thank you, they're gorgeous - sorry, what are they for?"

Neil's face falls. "…you didn't remember."

All of the sudden he does, and Kurt closes his eyes and groans. "We had a date. Oh, Neil, I'm so sorry, my life has just been a mess lately and I _completely _forgot." It's not a lie; with all the business with Blaine, he's surprised he hasn't forgotten more appointments yet.

"No, I'm sorry, I guess I should have called first. I didn't realize you had company." He nods at Blaine, who glances back and forth between Kurt and Neil, unabashedly glaring at the latter of the two.

"Oh, Blaine - Blaine isn't company, he's staying here," Kurt corrects quickly. Sometimes it doesn't occur to Kurt that that isn't normal, that people won't understand their messed-up dynamic. He forgets that any explanation he has will not make sense, not that he owes anyone an explanation. It's _Blaine _and no matter what, he and Blaine have always been a unit.

He doesn't know when he got used to this life.

Neil actually _looks _at Blaine now, like he's seeing him for the first time. His eyes widen a little. "You're Blaine?"

"That would be me."

"You're… the ex."

"Ex-_husband._" Blaine's lips press together in a firm line, a mockery of a smile, and it doesn't reach his eyes. "_So_ nice to meet you."

Neil looks more out of his depth with every passing second, shifting uncomfortably under Blaine unrelenting gaze. Kurt is just glad he doesn't pry. "Should I go?" He asks, glancing at Kurt. "We could reschedule, if this is a bad time…?"

The idea of going out on a simple date is almost baffling. There haven't _been _dates, not for years. It's not from lack of interest, either, he hasn't _avoided _other guys, but what adult has the time to date? He has work, he has Amelia, now he has _Blaine _and that takes up every spare bit of brainpower_. _He doesn't have time for fun, which now that he actually thinks about it, is unfair. Blaine is here, and he's stable enough to leave alone now. He could take care of Amelia while Kurt is gone…

"No, no, it's -"

"Kurt, could I talk to you for a moment?" Blaine interrupts. His arms are crossed as he keeps staring at Neil, as if challenging him. Like he's chasing off a suitor. It makes Kurt more angry than it should, like Blaine has _any _right to be jealous or whatever the hell this it.

"…okay. I'll be back in a second, Neil." He follows Blaine down the hall, stepping into the guest room and shutting the door behind them. "Well?"

"Who is he?"

"Just a friend." He can tell that Blaine doesn't believe him. "_What?" _He snaps.

"Is he your… boyfriend? Is that - is that why you said that, you know, what we did… is that why it was a mistake? Did you _cheat _on him with me?" He looks so scandalized that Kurt nearly laughs aloud.

"No! No, we're not dating."

"So he's 'just a friend' who brings you flowers and makes dinner reservations."

"We hooked up a couple of times, okay?" Blaine flinches. "It's just a date, Blaine, it's not a big deal."

"But seriously? This guy?"

"Oh, come on, you don't even _know _him. You're just assuming he's a bad guy!"

"He's not even your type…"

"And how exactly would you know what my _type _is?"

Blaine crosses his arms over his chest, staring at the floor and mumbling. "I kind of figured your type would be _me._"

Kurt tries to ignore how much that hurts, and how true it is - he wonders sometimes if he singled Neil out simply because he is Blaine's opposite. He exhales, slow and shaky. _Do you even have a life outside of Blaine anymore? _Rachel had asked. Well, screw Blaine, he thinks, trying to work some vehemence into his inner voice. Of course he has his own life. Blaine does not control his life, and he can prove that right now. "Well, you probably didn't notice while frolicking with Santana all week, but I need a night out of the house too. So I'm going on this date, and yes, maybe I'll hook up again, who knows? But keep your opinions on him to yourself, because amazingly enough, who I sleep with is none of your business anymore. I don't need your _approval. _And you have no right to be jealous."

He turns on his heel and leaves Blaine there, ignoring the twinge of guilt he feels as he goes back into the kitchen. Amelia is staring at Neil from the couch, eyes narrowed in suspicion. He plasters on a bright smile, even though Blaine has made this feel anything but good. "Give me five, ten minutes to change and then we can go? Make yourself at home."

"No problem." Neil beams at him. Kurt can't help but shoot Blaine, who had reentered the living room, a look that he hopes translates to _play nice _as he goes to his room, trying to think of something classy he can throw on at such short notice. He'll be sure to work a scarf in there; scarves manage to make him look put-together even when he's anything but.

It's rushed but that's to be expected, and he thinks that the charcoal gray vest, white button-up, black skinny jeans and his favorite Doc Martins are dressy enough for dinner - he was right, the silvery scarf he wraps around his neck finishes the ensemble perfectly - while casual enough for what he is presuming will be a casual first date.

God, he hasn't had a first date in… he isn't even sure how long, now. The hookups don't count, two of them being nameless men in a seedy club, who Kurt tries to forget out of shame (that had been during the first pathetic six months after the divorce, and it had taken him ages to convince himself that he wasn't cheating on Blaine by sleeping with other people). They were drunk and he wasn't - not in his right mind, certainly, but not at all intoxicated, which had somehow made the whole experience more strange and uncomfortable, even if it felt vaguely good at the time. The two others were decent enough to offer him breakfast in the awkward morning-after. He doesn't even _like_ sleeping around, it leaves him more dissatisfied than satiated and it's just not _him, _monogamy has always thrilled him in a strange way. But he can add it to the list of things he dislikes about the life he now leads.

Neil, however, was something else - Kurt had met him at a party thrown by a coworker that had been entirely torturous except for his company, his clever jokes and flawless hair and swoon-worthy smile and most importantly his shared hatred of everyone else at that party. Things had proceeded from there. They only met again by chance, and somehow ended up back in his bed once again, the first time Kurt had ever slept with the same guy twice, other than Blaine and a very brief fling during their very brief breakup in college. Then they ran into each other at a coffee shop a couple months later, and talked for a few hours and exchanged phone numbers, casually texting every so often. They _had _planned a proper date, Kurt now remembers, but he had forgotten to put it in his planner and had thus forgotten it, lost in the madness of these past weeks.

Still, it can't hurt. Weeks of taking care of everyone but himself - doesn't he deserve a night out? And if he finds there's something there between them besides a shared love of sex, well -

- well, Kurt doesn't know what he'll do then. Better not to think on it, he decides. One date won't hurt anyone.

_Except maybe Blaine, _his mind unhelpfully supplies.

_It's none of his business, _he argues.

_You saw the look on his face._

And now he's arguing with himself; wonderful, as if he needs more issues. Kurt bites out a laugh as he wraps and unwraps his scarf, nothing looking quite right, before he gives up and assumes that no one will notice if he doesn't tie it right anyway. No, he's going to go out with Neil and have a good time and Blaine will not factor into it.

Not one bit.

* * *

><p>Neil takes him to a restaurant, not expensive enough to make Kurt uncomfortable but classy enough to make it obvious that this is a date, and an awkward one at that. They make small talk as they sip at their drinks (just too-sweet lemonade for Kurt; Neil offers him wine, but Kurt turns him down in a way that he later realizes must have seemed cold), talking about work and mutual acquaintances and some new musical showing in an off-Broadway theater. After that fades into silence, Neil clears his throat and says, "So… your ex-husband lives with you."<p>

"Temporarily," Kurt answers. "He was… in a bad situation and I'm helping him get back on his feet."

"So you're not…" Neil coughs. "You know, together?"

Why does that make Kurt's stomach twist in knots? "No." It still feels wrong to say. "Look, um… could we not talk about Blaine?" If he's going to go on dates he can't let Blaine worm his way into them too.

"Oh - yeah, of course."

"It's just not a fun subject. Really complicated." When he actually thinks about it, it's true, but everyday life doesn't feel as complicated as it us. Blaine needs his help and there's no one else there, simple as that. It's only when he ponders what brought them to this point that he realizes how fucked up it all is.

"Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"You didn't know." Kurt fiddles with the edge of his napkin, more decorative than functional, his thumb tracing the bit of embroidery at the corner. It's one of those restaurants where it takes an hour for the food to get there, which only succeeds in making longer silences to fill.

"I just want to know more about you," Neil admits. Without warning, his hand shoots across the table to cover Kurt's. His fingers are long and his nails could use some work, and there are no callouses to speak of. It's odd. It's just another hand but it's so completely different from Blaine's that it doesn't seem right to hold. "You're really awesome, Kurt."

Kurt's cheeks warm, and he ducks his head. "You're sweet." He keeps his hand still under Neil's. There's no reason _not _to hold hands, but he still glances around, futilely, for a reason to pull back. "Um… so what do you want to know about me?"

"Hmm… what made you go into fashion design?"

"Broadway didn't work out." He shrugs, and laughs softly at Neil's raised eyebrow. "I didn't get into the acting program I wanted, and of course I was devastated, but I sent my sketchbook to FIT out of desperation. Didn't really expect anything to come of it, but I needed some way out of Ohio. And here I am." Another shrug and the movement makes his hand shift slightly under Neil's. It seems like that brush of skin alone should send sparks shooting up his arm, make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Holding hands with Blaine always did.

_Stop comparing everything he does to Blaine, _Kurt snaps at himself. _He's _not _Blaine. That's the whole point._

"Well, I see why they liked you, your designs are fantastic," Neil says. "Of course, I don't know what most of it _is, _but… I'm afraid I'm not the most fashionable of men. Couldn't tell a cufflink from a cummerbund. Actually, I have no idea what either of those things are."

"Blasphemy. Hand in your gay card."

"I know, right?" He laughs.

"Don't worry, Blaine's just as bad. I mean, not that he doesn't dress well, but the man has _no _eye for modern fashion. He still dresses like a toddler and a grandpa at the same time, even though _that _stopped being cool in 2013. He claims that adding a bowtie to any ensemble automatically makes it fashionable." That, at least, gets them both laughing, although it's short lived. "Sorry, I know I said I didn't want to talk about him…"

"Hey, no, it's okay."

"No, no, I'm making this awkward. No more talking about my ex-husband while on a date." He laughs again, forced and fake. "Maybe _that's _why I can't get laid."

"I, er, actually didn't think you had much trouble with that." Neil rubs the back of his head and blushes. "Your charms worked on me, anyway."

"You were slightly tipsy," Kurt points out. "Because apparently my 'charms' only work on drunkards." His tone turns out bitter enough for Neil not to continue that topic. Kurt sighs. All he's managing to do is make this awkward, and he really doesn't want it to be. "On second thought, mind if I have some of that wine?"

Neil pours him a glass, and he downs about half of it in two gulps. It's dry and not the most pleasant taste and it feels familiar but foreign going down his throat. It's stupid and it feels wrong but he's not going to get _drunk. _He's just going finish this glass and go back to not drinking, just to make tonight a little less weird.

Maybe that's the first sign that this is a mistake.

Dinner comes and goes, dessert refused, and the conversation is… stilted, but nice. It's all very _nice _but that's the only thing to describe it; Neil, he decides, is just a tad bland when they're not having sex. Maybe they just need to loosen up, maybe it's just realizing that they don't _know _each other at all. Almost every conversation before has led up to sex and they both knew it, even the first time. So maybe it's not a surprise that they don't know how to just talk to each other.

Knowing that doesn't stop Kurt from being disappointed.

Later, when they're back in Neil's little blue car, they sit for a little while before Neil leans over and kisses him.

It's probably good that he's so different from Blaine; that was part of the appeal in the beginning. Blaine kind of tends to just go for it without much warning (once he had actually shouted _surprise! _before planting a loud, wet, overenthusiastic kiss on Kurt, leaving Kurt laughing uncontrollably for at least five minutes.) Neil is a little more hesitant, pressing a couple soft kisses to Kurt's lips before he takes Kurt's lack of resistance as a cue to go on. He's slow and gentle, testing the waters; fingertips tilting Kurt's chin up to change the angle and deepen the kiss.

He goes with it, because why the hell not, and this is _nice_ too. Neil isn't as good at this as Blaine, but then, the two of them had years and years to figure out everything the other liked, so he can't really blame Neil for that. The little sparks of pleasure are dull and in the background, but not in a bad way. The kissing and the warm hint of wine in his stomach make Kurt feel kind of lazy and slow, content to keep going at this pace. Except Neil seems to feel the opposite way; he hums appreciatively, making little vibrations on Kurt's lips, and turns it deeper still, tongue flicking out to rub against Kurt's. Faster now, lips slick and sliding, and Kurt pulls away, flopping back into his seat to breathe and get his bearings and try not to feel so guilty. Not being at such an awkward angle is a relief.

Neil kisses high on his neck, and then pulls back and watches him, smiling. When he speaks, Kurt automatically assumes that Neil will ask to go back to his place, so it's a bit of a shock when instead he says, "Be my boyfriend?"

"_What?"_

"Be my boyfriend!"

Kurt laughs shakily, hands twisting together in his lap where they had stayed during the entirety of the kissing. "Um - moving a little fast, don't you think?"

Neil raises his eyebrows. "Kurt, we've had sex, I don't think it's moving that fast."

"And we can continue that without dating. The… sex-having." He hadn't actually thought as far as going over to Neil's after the date, but right now he's considering it just to make him stop talking about boyfriends and dating. Maybe a quickie in the car would do the trick.

"That's not what I want." Neil says, and Kurt flops back in his seat. So much for that. "I really like you, Kurt. I think we could be good together and I can tell you come with a bit of baggage -" Kurt barely restrains his laugher at that, oh god, baggage is such an understatement - "and you've got your kid and all. Annie, was it?"

"Amelia."

"Right, her. Anyway, that doesn't bother me. I can get to know the kid."

"I… it's been a really long time since I've had a boyfriend."

"Is that a yes?"

The thing is that it wouldn't be at all bad, getting to know Neil, being his boyfriend. It would be easy, and fun and simple, and Neil clearly adores him, probably more than Kurt does him. The sex would be great and he probably really _wouldn't _mind the baggage (that, or he would run away screaming and Kurt wouldn't blame him for a moment). It would be… well, _nice. _

And maybe it would actually work out. Maybe he and Amelia would get along, maybe Neil would turn out to be everything he didn't know he needed, maybe he would fill the hole in Kurt's life. He wouldn't quite fit, perhaps, that hole is specifically Blaine-sized-and-shaped, but he could be close enough. Maybe everything would be okay.

He wonders if Blaine would actually like Neil, given the chance.

It's the thought of Blaine that stops him short and makes him feel ill just for considering this; of course it is. He lets out a shaky breath. "Take me home." It's not quite what he means to say, but it's what he _needs, _to be home and able to think about everything, about this and about Blaine and what it all means, in peace.

Neil's expression crumbles. He starts the car, pointedly not looking at Kurt. "Neil," Kurt begins.

"It's okay."

"I'm not saying never. Okay? You're a great guy, and tonight was lovely, it _was, _but I need time to think about it."

Neil shakes his head as they pull out of the parking lot, grip on the steering wheel tight. "Is it Blaine?"

Kurt hesitates. "Not… not the way you're thinking. You're right about the baggage, there's more of it than you could possibly know. I'm not going to dump that on you."

"You love him." He says it with a distasteful look on his face, like it's a simple unpleasant fact, and it kind of is.

"No, I don't," Kurt lies.

"Well, he loves you." Neil shrugs. "Anyone can see it."

Kurt looks away, staring out the window and at the neon lights of the city around them, and wonders if he would even know what to do with a boyfriend if he had one. He knows how to be married and engaged, but he hasn't been a boyfriend in a long time, much less a _new _boyfriend. Those first months, even those first years, of being with Blaine and learning how to be together, how to _love _each other, are still so special to Kurt - how could he do that with someone brand new? "Maybe once I've had time to think about it," he begins, knowing his words are false even as he says them; he's not going to date Neil, there was never any chance, and it _sucks - _he wants to, or he wants to want to, but…

"As long as Blaine is in the picture it wouldn't work out anyway," Neil says, voicing Kurt's exact thoughts. "I can tell that much."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

They don't talk again during the drive, and it gives Kurt time to think. About Neil, and about Blaine, and how he feels about all of it - and by the end, when Neil parks in front of the apartment building, all Kurt can feel is angry. At himself, for being so stupid and not letting himself go through with this. But more than that, angry at Blaine.

It's just not _fair_. This could have been amazing, wonderful, but instead thoughts of Blaine had lingered in his mind all night long. Comparing Neil's every action to Blaine, wondering what Blaine would say in response to a comment or question - Blaine hadn't left him alone the entire evening, and he hadn't even _been _there.

Kurt had thought that maybe, just maybe, he could get over Blaine for good, Could learn to actually like Neil, could be _happy._ But apparently that isn't allowed to happen. So yeah, Kurt is just a little pissed off.

Neil kisses him goodnight, soft and chaste, and even though they don't say that they won't see each other again it feels like a goodbye. Kurt's hands clench into fists as he stomps up the stairs, unlocks the door to the apartment, and steps inside.

The lights are turned down low, the TV quiet so as not to wake up Amelia, and it casts bluish light on the wall and the couch and on Blaine's face. He looks otherworldly in the light, strange and beautiful, but suddenly Kurt just _hates _the sight of him.

Blaine looks up as Kurt comes inside. "Hey." Kurt doesn't reply, has half a mind to give him the silent treatment entirely. "Um… how did it go?"

"Oh, just peachy." Kurt tugs off his coat and hangs in up with as much force as he can muster. The scarf comes off next, practically tearing it off his neck as he hangs both garments from the coat rack. "I doubt we'll be seeing him again. I hope you're happy."

"…What? Why would that make me happy -?"

"Why wouldn't it? Doesn't matter, I ended it. So thank you, Blaine, for ruining something that could actually make me happy." It's not fair, he's being too harsh, but he can't stop.

Blaine blinks up at him, the bewildered expression making Kurt want to scream. "I am so lost, why exactly it my fault you had a bad date?"

"Because -" _just _you_, with your eyes and your face and the way you still look at me and the way you make me hope… "_Ugh!" What can he _say? _Not that Blaine has ruined other men for him just by being there, not that Kurt imagined Blaine's soft lips when he kissed Neil, not that he still feels like he was _cheating _on Blaine by doing this, the way he feels every single time he's with a man that isn't Blaine. "Just - you don't get to do this to me, okay? Who I fuck has nothing to do with you and you don't get to make me feel awful about it! Stop trying to wreck everything I try to do to feel good!" And he _needs _something to feel good, just one thing in his life.

But obviously nothing is allowed to go right.

"You're overreacting, and besides, he was obviously just using you for sex, Kurt; like that guy would have cared about you or Amelia…"

"He asked me to be his boyfriend." Kurt feels wobbly just thinking about it. "So, more like I was using him. Because apparently I do that now. Yay, me."

Blaine's mouth falls open, and he looks stricken. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Seeing you with another guy freaked me out. I couldn't help it."

"That's not fair, Blaine," Kurt snaps. "And you know it."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I just - we never even talked about it," Blaine says. "What... happened with us. Not really. Don't you feel like it was left unfinished?"

Kurt clenches and unclenches his hands, trying to steady his breathing and failing. "_Now _you want to talk?" His voice shakes with the effort he puts into being calm, voice rising with every word. "You want to sit here and chat about how you screamed in my face and hit me and took my baby away from me -"

"Kurt-"

"- because I _can't, _Blaine, I can't talk about what you did and I don't _ever_ want to, not with you. I just want to move on and forget and live my life and I can't even do that, because you make me feel like shit for trying to move on even though I'll never be able to. You don't have a monopoly on being fucked up over this, Blaine. I get to have issues too."

The silence leaves a ringing in his ears, and Blaine stares up at him from where he sits on the couch, eyes wide and looking at him with such sorrow. "I was… actually talking about the night of your birthday," he says, swallowing thickly. "But that too, I guess."

A laugh forces its way up Kurt's throat, sharp and hysterical. "Unbelievable," he whispers, voice tight. If Blaine thinks that they can just go back to how things were he's delusional. "Well, there, we talked, are you happy now?"

"I don't know what more I can say." Blaine says, his voice oddly gentle now.

"I don't want to hear it." Kurt groans. "It's over, it's been done, it can't be reversed. I just want to forget about it."

"If I could take any of it back, I would. You have no - I've felt so awful, Kurt, about all of it."

"Then why have you been such an asshole to me? Ever since you got here, you act like I fucking _owe _you something, it's just not fair." Kurt knows he has to stop - yelling at Blaine is anything but beneficial - but he just can't. It's just like _before_, only now he's the one doing all of the attacking. It makes him physically ill.

"I need to be alone," he mutters.

"Kurt…"

Kurt stands, making his swift way to the bedroom without giving Blaine a chance to say anything. He slams the door behind him and locks it - overkill, perhaps, but he doesn't care. He leans up against the door, trying to stop shaking from anger.

Of all the times to break down. Why over this? It's not like Neil was anything special, or like Kurt even _wanted _him to be. Of course, the fight isn't _about _Neil, it's about everything that has happened coming to a head, all of his pent up frustrations bursting out. It's completely unreasonable, and he knows it, which is why he needs to be alone before he makes it all worse.

"Kurt."

Kurt closes his eyes. "Please go away." He says, voice choked and not sounding at all like his own. He hears Blaine lean against the door and recoils from it. Even when separated by nothing but a few inches of wood they feel worlds apart. "Blaine, I can't do this right now, just _please_..."

"I need to try to make this right."

Kurt doesn't reply. On the other side, Blaine breathes, deep and shaky. "If you want to be with Neil..." he says the name like it's a curse. "Then you should be. I don't have any say in it anymore and I shouldn't have acted like I do and I'm... really sorry."

Kurt sinks down to the carpeted floor, back to the door, letting his head thump against it. "I don't think I even liked him that much," he says, not sure why he's admitting this at all. It's easier when he can't see Blaine's face. "Not really. I wanted to, but I don't." Maybe, he muses, he doesn't remember how to fall in love anymore.

"Then why...?" Blaine lets the question trail off.

"What, like you haven't hooked up?" Blaine doesn't reply, which is all the answer Kurt needs. "I don't know. I just needed to try to move on. Needless to say, it didn't work. It's probably for the best. I don't want to be the kind of parent with a new boyfriend for the kid to get used to every week. It isn't fair to Amelia."

Blaine stays silent for a moment. "You're right. I have tried hooking up. It didn't work for me, either." He says softly. Kurt hates the way that fact makes him feel, even though he knew already - the thought of another man touching Blaine, fucking Blaine, is awful. He wonders if Blaine feels the same way knowing how Kurt has slept around. "Where... does that leave us?"

"Nowhere." Kurt swallows back the lump in his throat. "I'm not ready to forgive you, Blaine."

"I don't even want you to. I mean, I do, but - not yet, not until you're really ready to."

Kurt breathes in, deep and shuddering. "I'm supposed to be the strong one here," he says. "I'm supposed to be strong for you and for Amelia, but look at me. I'm pathetic."

"No. You're still the strongest person I've ever met." Blaine's voice is closer suddenly, like he sat down too. Kurt sucks in a sharp breath but doesn't move away. "You're always telling me it's okay to hurt. That applies to you, too, you know. If you still hate me -"

"I've never hated you." Kurt interrupts, not meaning to say it but knowing that it's true. "God knows I wish I could, it would be easier."

"Easier than what?"

"Than being so lonely. Easier than missing you every single day even though I shouldn't." _Shut up, shut up,_ he thinks to himself. Now that he's started talking, he can't seem to stop.

"I'm here now." Blaine says, sounding bewildered. Kurt shakes his head, even though Blaine can't see it.

"No," he says. "No you're not. Not the Blaine that I lov- that I remember. You changed and I know I can't fix you but I _want _to." his voice breaks, and he shuts his eyes tight.

Blaine doesn't seem to know what to say to any of this, the silence stretching out. "I always thought that, even if we broke up, we would still be best friends," he says. "Obviously that...didn't happen."

"Gee, I wonder why that might be."

"I miss you, too," Blaine whispers, thankfully ignoring the sarcasm in Kurt's voice. He speaks so softly that Kurt wonders if he heard right. "So much."

"Blaine…"

"And I understand if you would rather we just get through this and go back to not talking, but. I want at least try to be your friend. When you're ready for it. I don't know how easy it will be, but anything would be better than this. At least friends talk about things, right?"

Kurt digs his fingers into the carpet, blinking back tears - somehow he had managed not to cry over any of the fight, but this, this breaks him down. Friends. He had always wanted the same thing - to keep Blaine in his life no matter what happened to them, because living without him didn't seem worth it or even possible. Their lives have been so tangled up in each other's from the very day they met and it's the same now.

But friends? Does he even know how to do that anymore?

He tries to imagine going back to being strangers, after all this is over and Blaine goes home. The vision dissipates as soon as he conjures it. Not being part of Blaine's life isn't an option, because Blaine is and always has been a part of him, for better or for worse. He can't shut out the man who has helped shape him into the person he is now.

Even if being close to him hurts almost as much as keeping him away.

"Do you think it's possible?" he murmurs. He wants to try, but god, it's scary. Letting someone else through the shell he's built, even if that someone knows every crack, crevice, and secret way to get in anyhow - opening up to him is so, so terrifying. He wonders if it will help Blaine, letting him in like this. That's the point of it all, making Blaine better.

"I don't know," Blaine admits. "But I've tried keeping you at a distance, and it's _exhausting._ I just don't know how to do it. So… that's what I want. But it's up to you."

"You have made me feel like such _shit._" Kurt whispers.

"I know." Kurt's almost glad he doesn't try to apologize again. He wouldn't have accepted it anyway.

"Friends," he says, tasting the word on his tongue. He swallows down the lump in his throat and says, shaky and hesitant. "I think I'd like that."

He can almost see Blaine's smile even with the barrier between them, beautiful and heartbreaking.


	14. The Love I Need To See Me Through

_The Andersons haven't stopped shouting for nearly an hour. Kurt stays frozen where he has since they all disappeared from the sitting room to talk in private, on the ugly floral-print (but still outrageously expensive, Kurt is sure)_ _sofa, a glass of water clutched in his shaking hand, all the ice long melted from it._

_It had started out a pleasant enough visit, as pleasant as any time spent in Blaine's parent's company can be, all fake smiles and pleasantries. Just a little while ago, Kurt and Blaine had sat here together across from Robert and Katherine Anderson, hands entwined between them and Kurt trying desperately not to think about the many, many times the two of them had made out on this very couch, grinning in anticipation as they delivered the news. _

"_We're getting married!" Blaine said, his eyes shining with happiness, and underneath, apprehension. _

_The long silence and the stony and shocked expressions of Robert and Katherine, respectively, are not the reactions they had expected._

"…_Say something?" Blaine's smile wavers. Kurt doesn't speak anything; he has long since learned that trying to talk to Blaine's parents is a lost cause when they seem to be determined to dislike every aspect of him._

_Robert clears his throat. "So soon?"_

"_We sort of thought it was a long time coming, actually…" Blaine glances over at Kurt for a moment. "We wanted to tell you in person - I know it's a bit costly to travel to New York, but it would mean the world to us if you could come." _

_Kurt wonders why his heart warms at that, the way Blaine already refers to them as _us, _a single unit. The moment of joy is shattered when Robert says, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."_

_Blaine blinks._

"_You're so young, you have all the time in the world to make a decision like this," Katherine says, all fake, calm poise. It's not even bad advice, except they know what she really means._

"_You mean to decide I actually want to marry a girl?"_

_Katherine purses her lips and looks away, answering the question without saying anything. "Like you said, it costs so much to travel up there." _

_Kurt almost laughs. He knows for a fact that the Andersons aren't hurting for money. "Are you serious?" Kurt stares at them incredulously. His own family has already started making plans for booking hotel rooms, and the date isn't even set yet. "You're not coming to your own son's wedding?"_

"_You would go halfway around the world for Cooper's wedding if he wanted you to," Blaine says quietly, and they all know what goes unsaid: that if Cooper would be marrying a girl if he ever decided to settle down, and that would be acceptable. The two of them shift uncomfortably, all the confirmation they need. "Mom, Dad, come on, can't you just be happy for me?"_

"_We just don't think it's a good idea." Robert says._

"_Why not?" Katherine's lips press into a thin line, and Robert is as expressionless as ever. "Tell me why you won't come to my wedding."_

"_Blaine."_

"_Tell me!"_

"_Could we please talk to you alone?"_

"_No."_

"_We don't want to cause a scene in front of your friend -"_

_Blaine stands up, still gripping Kurt's hand. "Are you still stuck on that? He's my _fiancée, _we've been together five fucking years now, you _know _that he's not just my 'friend'. We're getting married, Dad, anything you have to say you can say in front of Kurt."_

_Robert huffs. "Blaine, stop this ridiculous notion, you're not getting _married."

"_He got down on one knee and I said yes, so yeah, pretty sure that's exactly what's happening. He gave me a ring and everything, courted me like a proper young gentleman." Kurt rolls his eyes but can't help but smirk, and the Andersons don't spare a passing glance at the simple silver engagement ring. _

"He _proposed?" Katherine raises her eyebrows._

"_Sorry to upset your heteronormative sensibilities," Kurt mutters. Anything that makes Blaine appear more effeminate sets them off. So far, they've been perfectly content to cast Kurt as 'the girl', even though Kurt is taller and has broader shoulders than Blaine now. "Now can we get back to what's actually important here?"_

_Robert scowls at him. "Kurt, please stay out of this."_

"_This is my marriage, too."_

"_Blaine, we would really like to speak to you _alone."

_Blaine hesitates, looking at Kurt for guidance. He finally relents. "It's ok," Kurt says, and he kisses his fiancée on the cheek for good measure before he lets go of Blaine's hand and lets him follow his parents out of the room._

_Even when they start shouting, Kurt can hardly understand a word of it, the way they all keep talking over each other. Once in a while, Kurt can make out Blaine's voice, shouting things like _"Face it, if Kurt were a girl you would be overjoyed" _and _"I'm not going to be a fucking doctor like Cooper, why can't you just let me be happy for a change", _only for Robert to bellow over him the way he always does._

_The longer it goes on the sicker Kurt feels. Just when Kurt is about to go in there and put a stop to the fighting, they all fall quiet, and Kurt hears Blaine's footsteps stomping away._

_He stands up when Blaine comes back into the room, forehead etched into a scowl, but his eyes show that this is more than a normal fight. Blaine starts gathering their things, what little they had bothered to unpack. _

"_Blaine, what's going on?" An edge of panic creeps its way into Kurt's voice. "Blaine?"_

"_We're staying at a motel tonight," he says, gruff and short. _

"_Okay, but -"_

"_Just come on."_

"_Honey, calm down - here, let me help -"_

"_Just-" Blaine lifts a hand, not in anger, but Kurt backs up anyway when he sees and hears how frustrated Blaine is. "Just… take these out to the car, we're going."_

"_Okay." Kurt swallows. The entire vibe of the house has changed, and he can tell that they are no longer welcome. He just doesn't know why, and not knowing what's happening scares Kurt. He tries not to let it show. "But let me drive."_

"_I'm fine - "_

"_You're not fine, you're shaking. Just let me, please."_

Just let me do something, anything, let me try to fix this, whatever _this _is -

"…_okay." Blaine lets out a shuddering breathe as Kurt picks up their bags to take to the car. Before he can leave, Blaine tugs him close and kisses him, fast and hard and _possessive, _and over before Kurt can think about returning it. "I love you, you know that, right?" Blaine whispers. "They can't change that, they can't."_

"_I love you, too," Kurt says, a little dazed. "Are… are we going to say goodbye?"_

"_No." _

_Kurt doesn't ask why._

_They don't speak again until they're on the road, and though Kurt's nerves aren't as frazzled as Blaine's he's still shaken, though he doesn't know what happened. "Are you going to tell me what they said?" He asks, glancing at his fiancée._

_Blaine grits his teeth. "Could you stop at a liquor store if you see one?"_

"_Don't you have a six-pack in the trunk?"_

"_I need something stronger. And I'll ask where the closest motel is."_

"…_yeah, okay." _

_They find one only a few minutes later, and Blaine disappears inside while Kurt sits in the car, watching through the illuminated window as Blaine pays for a cheap looking bottle of whiskey, which Kurt will _not _be sharing in, thank you very much. Then they're driving again, and the silence as they follow the directions to the motel scares Kurt more than if Blaine were hysterical. It gives him no hint as to what might have happened, but it makes his stomach clench with nerves._

_The motel is tiny, and cheap, and Kurt just tries not to think about how rat-infested it must be as they check in for the night. At least their room is clean, even if the drapes and bed sheets clash horribly. Blaine sits on the edge of the queen sized bed, trembling hands struggling to open his bottle. He takes a swig, then offers it to Kurt, who shakes his head._

_He takes the fastest shower he can, and when he gets back to Blaine, he's still sitting in the same place Kurt left him, staring straight ahead, the whiskey bottle a little emptier._

"_We have to talk about it," Kurt says softly. "Blaine, I need to know what happened."_

"_I just want to go to sleep."_

"_Blaine, talk to me."_

"_Leave me alone -"_

"_No." Kurt snatches the bottle from Blaine's hand, ignoring his pitiful noise of protest, and slams it down on the desk across from the bed. A little bit of golden liquid sloshes over the rim, he ignores that too. "No. We are getting _married, _Blaine, or I hope we still are, so don't start keeping secrets from me already - we're honest with each other, right? I tell you everything, and I like to think you do too. Don't shut me out now."_

_He kneels on the floor at Blaine's feet, taking his fiancée's hands and gently unfurling them from where they're clenched into tight fists. He closes his eyes and kisses Blaine's knuckles, and whispers, "Please, please talk to me." Blaine's hands shake, undetectable if Kurt couldn't feel it. A gut-wrenching, heartbreaking sound tears itself from Blaine's lips, and when Kurt opens his eyes, he finds Blaine crying. "Baby, please," Kurt whispers. He can't take this, he can't take a single second of Blaine hurting and not knowing how to fix it._

"_Th-they disowned me, Kurt."_

_Kurt feels like the ground has dropped out from underneath him, only the tight grip of Blaine's hand keeping him steady in the face of this earth-shattering thing. _

"_They said that - that they had indulged me long enough and I had to stop this stupid fantasy and if I was going to choose this 'lifestyle' then I'm not their son anymore. I'm not anything to them."_

_Kurt climbs up onto the bed to sit close to Blaine, unable to think of a single thing to say - he could never, never have imagined that it would come to this. Kicking Blaine out when he still lived at home, maybe - but actual legal disownment? Never. His first instinct is to hold Blaine close, but he doesn't know if that's what Blaine needs. "God… Blaine, I…" _

_He just doesn't know what to do. He's never felt more helpless._

"'_Lifestyle'," Blaine mutters, "what fucking lifestyle, all I want is to marry you and get a house with a white picket fence and a dog and 2.5 kids, isn't that what they want?" Kurt thinks that it says a lot that he doesn't even argue about the dog. "What's wrong with that? Why isn't that good enough for them?" Blaine groans and rubs his eyes, smearing the tears across his cheeks. "What is so wrong with me that they would fucking disown me?"_

"_Cooper will talk sense into them," Kurt reasons. He can only imagine the wrath the Andersons will face when Cooper hears about this mess. Surely he'll say something. _

_Blaine snorts. "Cooper just moved in with Savannah, you know how much they hate her, that's why he likes her. They won't pay attention to him right now. No. It's over." His shoulders start to shake again, obviously trying to keep back more tears. Kurt rubs his back, right between his shoulderblades, in what he hopes is a soothing way. It's all he can do. He can't fix it this time._

"_Nothing is wrong with you," Kurt insists, "nothing, you are _perfect, _Blaine, and if they can't see that then they don't deserve to call you their son."_

"_They're my family," Blaine chokes. "They _were _my family, they're supposed to love me, why don't they love me anymore?"_

_Kurt says nothing, because nothing he says will change a thing. Instead, he lays down on the bed, pulling Blaine with him and tugging him tight to his chest. Blaine goes as easily as a rag doll, burying his face in Kurt's shoulder and letting himself cry, while Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine and shuts his eyes tight. Even though he feels like crying, too, he doesn't let it show, just lays there, and lets Blaine cry, and wonders, helplessly, what he can possibly do. _

_Eventually, Blaine's sobs subside, his shuddery breathing evens out, and he falls to sleep. It's restless, and he mumbles often, but it's sleep nonetheless. Kurt isn't so lucky, but he kisses to top of Blaine's hair and tries his best to sleep too, hoping that in the morning, things will make more sense._

* * *

><p><em>When Blaine wakes up, when only the faintest dawn light is peeking through a gap in the hideous curtains, Kurt is already gathering their things to put back in the car. He sits up and rubs his eyes, and Kurt offers him a weak smile.<em>

"_We'll go to my dad's house," Kurt promises. They were supposed to spend the day with Blaine's parents, but, well. "They won't mind us staying an extra day." Mostly Kurt wants them out of this motel room as soon as possible, wants to get them to a place where they're all still family, no matter what happens. To show Blaine that he does still have a family, here with them, and soon it will be official._

_Assuming that Blaine still wants to go through with it. Kurt doesn't know what he'll do if they don't. He'll understand, and he'll deal with it, but he wants to be married to Blaine more than ever before, now._

"_Okay." Blaine mumbles._

"_I texted Cooper, because he wanted to know if we got into town okay, but… I didn't tell him anything, really. I didn't know if you would want me to. And… I tried calling your parents." He doesn't miss the way Blaine flinches at that. What does he call Katherine and Robert, now? Because they aren't his parents anymore. Kurt doesn't know what they are. "They didn't pick up… I'm sorry."_

"_It doesn't matter; you tried. Thank you." Blaine's voice is hoarse and throaty from crying. His eyes hold none of the hysteria from the night before, now he just looks numb. That scares Kurt more than all the crying. He bites his lip and nods. They both know that there's nothing to be done. It's over._

_He sits behind Blaine, wraps his arms around his fiancées waist and rests his cheek on his shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Blaine's hand finds Kurt's where it lays flat on his stomach, gently stroking the skin of his knuckles._

"_What can I do?" Kurt whispers, pressing a light kiss to the back of Blaine's neck and lingering there. "I want to make this better, but I don't know how. You have to tell me what you need from me."_

_Blaine exhales slowly, relaxing back into Kurt's embrace. "You can take me to your old room and fuck me so hard I forget my last name," he says, and Kurt has to bite his lips to hide a little smile, because Blaine probably isn't kidding. He hooks his chin over Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine turns to nuzzle Kurt's cheek, forehead resting against the side of Kurt's head. He murmurs, "And then you can marry me."_

_As if it's the most simple thing in the world. Of course they're still getting married. Even if not doing so could make the Andersons take Blaine back, it wouldn't fix anything. It would only patch over the holes that have been there for years, put them out of sight while they slowly get worse and worse. This isn't a clean break, by any means, but it's the closest they could ever get._

_So Kurt nods, kissing at the closest bit of skin he can reach, at the corner of Blaine's lips, and says, "I can do that."_


	15. Selfish Prayers And I Can't Get Enough

**A/N**: Warning: Here there be smut! Specifically frottage and blowjobs. Took me long enough, right? So yeah, if that's not your thing, there's one scene you should just skim over but the rest should be fine. I'm still not super experianced in the ways of porn, so if anyone has constructive criticism I would be happy to hear it!("constructive" meaning "don't just leave comments like "ewww bottom!blaine you're horrible" like I've gotten on a previous fic. cause seriously guys, that's lame.)

Also, I sometimes post little updates for this story (just letting you know that I'm still writing, reblogging songs or pics that fit my headcanon, etc.) on my tumblr, so if you'd like to follow that or chat with me about anything or have questions about the story or whatever it's androidsfighting(.)tumblr(.)com - just get rid of the parenthesis around the dots. (Or you can track the Hurricane 'Verse tag if you don't want me on your dash.) I'm always looking for people to talk to, so don't be shy!

* * *

><p>Blaine slams the door when he enters, making Kurt glance up from the stove and the sauce he's currently stirring as Blaine walks past. "How did it go?" Kurt asks, twisting his head to look at Blaine, whose only answer is to grunt as he sits heavily on one of the barstools and thunks his head on the kitchen counter. "Oh. That bad?"<p>

"Well, it made me really want a stiff drink," Blaine mutters, which Kurt tries to ignore. The drinking hasn't been much of an issue since the last time. No matter how hard it is, Blaine seems determined to quit - for good this time. At least, Kurt hopes so; the subject hasn't really been breached yet.

It was Blaine's first time at the support group for those struggling with depression that Naomi had recommended, following her advice to try out different types of treatment. Though the one-on one counseling seems to be having some effect, she wants him to try other methods too, just in case. (There was a pamphlet for Alcoholics Anonymous, too, but Blaine had thrown it out, muttering something about 'having to do it himself'.) Blaine had been reluctant, his anxiety flaring up at the thought of going and talking to strangers about his personal problems, but he had agreed to try it at least once when Kurt encouraged him.

So not long ago, he had driven Blaine back to his apartment to get his car, so that he has the option of going out whenever he wants. He usually _doesn't, _but it must be nice knowing he has the option, though every time, especially if he's out with Santana, Kurt can't help but wonder if this is the day Blaine will leave and never come back.

He had also come back from the apartment with his guitar and keyboard to take back to Kurt's, and though he hasn't played them - as far as Kurt knows, he hasn't played or sang outside of the glasses he taught until recently in years - they both like the familiar sight of them sitting in the corner, waiting patiently.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says sympathetically. "Didn't Santana go with? I figured she would be your moral support." He leaves the sauce he's been cooking to simmer and turns to face Blaine.

"Yeah." Blaine props himself up on his elbow, resting his chin in his hand. After a while he murmurs, sounding ashamed even as he says it, "God, I hate them all."

Kurt says nothing.

"I didn't talk, I wasn't ready yet, but the whole time everyone else was blathering on and on, all 'my name is so-and-so and I'm depressed, blah blah,' all I could think was _shut the fuck up. _They just sounded so fucking pathetic, you know?" He laughs without humor, shaking his head. "But then I feel like the biggest asshole ever, because I'm no different from them, am I? I'm just as pathetic as the rest of those bastards, more so even, at least they have a _reason _to be fucked up. I just suck."

Kurt has no idea what he can say, to any of it, so he blurts out, "I don't think you're pathetic."

And that works, the irritable expression on Blaine's face smoothing out a little. He starts to speak. Stops, tries to hide a tiny smile, and ducks his head almost shyly. "Kind of an asshole, though," he quips.

It's almost _cute, _and Kurt's heart melts just a tiny bit at Blaine's attempt at a joke. "Only a little." He's rewarded with another smile, another twitch of the lips.

It's weird, that's the only word Kurt can find for it, how difficult and yet how _easy _this whole 'friends' thing it. Easy, because they have always been best friends, at the heart of it all. Hard because of everything unsaid between them - or more importantly the things that _have_ been said.

All but confirming their feelings for each other, complicated and twisted as they are; admitting that they get jealous and can't find satisfaction in other men… and then nothing. They make a very conscious effort to be kind to each other, actually treat each other like human beings and not an object work out their frustrations on. But there have been no discussions about what it all means, and what they're working towards, if anything. They've kept each other at a specific distance, able to talk about just about anything - except for the past, and what happened between them, and the strange, careful parody of a relationship they're cultivating.

Kurt still can't talk about what Blaine did, to him, to their family - even putting it into words in his own head makes him feel sick (and then guilty, and a hundred other things he can't name.) Someday, maybe, but not now. And that's why he won't let himself think about taking things further with Blaine. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"So… if support groups make you feel bad, don't go." Kurt says firmly. "There's no point in making yourself feel worse. Keep up your appointments with Naomi, if that's working for you."

Blaine nods. "Naomi wants to talk about medication," He says quietly, avoiding looking into Kurt's eyes. "I keep postponing the subject."

"You don't want to try it?" Honestly, Kurt isn't sure about it either, but that's more because he doesn't know a lot about antidepressants than not liking the idea of them at all.

"I just, I don't know." Blaine traces nonsense patterns on the countertop, Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to find the words. "I guess… I don't like the idea of taking something that changes the way I feel. Like, it might keep me happy for a minute, but that won't be _me, _will it? Underneath I'll still be… this."

"But if it'll help… I'm not saying you should out shouldn't, but maybe don't rule it out until you talk to her about what they'll actually _do_? And then tell me what she said so we can talk about it if you want, because I have _no _idea."

Blaine bites his lip and nods. "Makes sense… I didn't mean to dump all that on you."

"No apologizing. That's what I'm here for, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks," Blaine murmurs. He smiles again, still shy, his cheeks flushing pink. He's done that a lot more lately, in the week since the date and the fight. Smiling, that is. Not always, but more often than before, and Kurt's heart flip-flops in the most terrifying way every single time he sees it.

Neither of them knows, exactly, where this friendship is going, or even how to handle it.

But as he watches Blaine stand up and leave the kitchen, walking down the hall toward his room, all Kurt knows is that having Blaine so close again is only succeeding in making him want more.

* * *

><p>"<em>Save me!"<em>

"_Please, Blaine -"_

"_Kurt, help me."_

"_I don't know what to do!" A silent sob tries to wrench its way from Kurt's throat, but as always, the wind whips it away. If he could only move, take even one step forward, he knows that he could stop what always happens at the end of the dreams. "Just tell me what to do, tell me how to help you, Blaine, please -"_

_Blaine closes his eyes, and falls._

Kurt wakes up with a whimper, pressing his face into his pillow to muffle it. Waking up after these nightmares makes him feel exhausted, like he hasn't slept in weeks, even just after waking. He lies very still, breathing steadily and refusing to let his eyes close again.

_Just a dream, _he tells himself. _It's just a dream, just a sick, twisted nightmare. _It never feels like that, though - Kurt has had his share of nightmares, but none of them left him with the sick feeling in his gut that these do.

The sound of footsteps going past his door distracts him; the light barefooted steps of someone trying to keep quiet. He knows that it's Blaine without even thinking about it. He's had years to get used to the sound of those footsteps.

He climbs out of bed and pulls on his robe, not even sure why he's getting up but knowing he has too. He opens the door to find Blaine almost at the end of the hall, looking tiny and almost childish with the way his pajama pants hang over his bare feet, his hair wild the way it always is after sleep.

"It's really early," Kurt whispers - when he woke the clock had read 2:00 AM. Blaine spins around, eyes wide and startled. "Sorry."

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." Kurt pulls his robe tighter around himself, shivering a little. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just… couldn't sleep, you know?" Blaine shrugs, shuffling back and forth like he thinks he's done something wrong. "Nothing new. I can't remember the last time I slept for more than like, an hour."

"Damn. How long has that been going on?"

"Um… two years and nine months." He mumbles, looking down at his feet. "You know. Give or take." _Since the breakup. Exactly_ since the breakup, in fact_, _and Kurt is a little surprised to find that Blaine has been counting the time, too, though Kurt has only done it unconsciously.

Jesus. No wonder he's such a mess. Kurt is always tired, but he can't even imagine that. Kurt leans on the doorframe and watches Blaine curiously. "God, that sounds awful. Have you tried taking something? I mean, I know you don't like pills, but…"

Blaine shakes his head. "They don't work. I mean, not regularly enough to be worth it, usually they just leave me feeling all drowsy all day. Or bouncing off the walls. I don't know, it's weird." He tries to laugh, but Kurt can tell it's getting to him, or already has. He had no idea that Blaine's insomnia was so bad.

"Is there anything that does work?" Kurt asks. He keeps his voice soft, so as not to wake Amelia. "You can't keep going on like this…"

"I… no. Nothing."

The way he hesitates makes Kurt doubt it. "What?"

Blaine crosses his arms over his chest. "Nothing. It's stupid, don't worry about it, just go back to bed."

"_Blaine._ I told you, nothing you have to say is stupid. I want to know."

"No, it's - too weird. And it doesn't matter anyway." Kurt just raises his eyebrows, eyes locked on Blaine until he starts to shift uncomfortably. Finally, he sighs. "_Fine._" What he says next is nothing more than an unintelligible mumble.

"…Was that even English?"

"I said..." Blaine lets out a frustrated breath, and then speaks again, quietly but at least understandable. "I think, maybe, it's that I can't sleep… alone."

"Oh." Kurt doesn't know what to say, so he just waits.

"Because… um, the night of your birthday…" They never talk about what actually happened, it's almost as if it was only a dream. "I slept through the night for the first time in years. And… you remember when Amelia was having all those nightmares last year?" Kurt nods. He remembers it well, those weekends when he got to see her, feeling helpless and wondering what on earth a four-year-old could have seen to make her wake up crying almost every night. Eventually it had gotten better, but it had taken _weeks. _"She would crawl into bed with me sometimes, and… that helped. Just having someone there. I don't know why."

Kurt wets his lips, hesitating a moment before he blurts out, "Do you want to… I mean, if we were just sleeping…"

Blaine looks up, eyes wide. "No." Kurt isn't sure whether to be hurt or not. "I'm not - not asking for that. For anything. I'm just going to go… drink some tea, see if that helps. You go back to bed or whatever."

But it makes sense to Kurt, in the way things only make sense in the early hours of the morning. It's simple and it might help and it's something that Kurt can _do. _All this time, he's felt so helpless, flailing around and just making things worse no matter how hard he tries, but if this tiny, simple thing can help… "Blaine, it's okay. You can't go forever without sleeping."

"I'm used to it. Just - drop it." He turns and starts to walk away.

"If it will help, then I want to do it -"

"This isn't easy for me either, okay?" Blaine bursts out, raising his voice a little as he turns back, and Kurt is shocked by the frustration in Blaine's expression. He takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again it's back to a murmur. "I know that this whole thing is… hard for you. But it's hard for me, too. Being friends, it's - different than I thought it would be. Not bad, just - weird." Kurt nods. He's been feeling the exact same way. "And I'm not going to do anything to complicate it."

"It won't."

"It _will _and you know it."

"But will it help?"

All of Blaine's resolve seems to melt from him as his fists unclench, leaving him small and frail and so, so exhausted. "Yes." He whispers, staring up at Kurt. "But I'm not - asking. For that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and don't lie, I know I do."

Uncomfortable isn't the right word, exactly. There are a thousand adjectives to describe Blaine, and a thousand more to describe how he makes Kurt feel. 'Confused' is the first to come to mind, but not 'uncomfortable.' "I'm here if you want," Kurt says, and steps back into his bedroom, leaving the door standing open to let Blaine in if he so chooses.

It takes a moment, and Kurt can practically feel Blaine lingering in the doorway, but then there are footsteps, and then Blaine is in the barely-lit room. He stands by the end of the bed as Kurt sits, and Kurt pats the left side, always Blaine's, in an invitation to lie down.

When they're both under the covers, they stay very still and very quiet. Kurt can hear every nuance of Blaine's breathing, feel every movement he makes, and they aren't even touching. Once, Kurt would have had every single sound and motion memorized. He would have known what that little hitch in Blaine's breath means, read every motion like sign language. He hadn't realized, until now, that he had _forgotten. _So many of the tiny things, little gestures and idiosyncrasies that made them who they were, have slipped through the cracks of Kurt's memory, like water through cupped hands.

Kurt glances to the side, where Blaine is lying stiff on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He can't tell if Blaine just can't relax, or if he doesn't want to be here at all, and suddenly feels bad for pushing things. Every time he's tried to help, he's ended up dragging his own feelings into it and making everything _worse - _but this is so simple, and he just wants it to _work. _Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this will be too awkward. But he can't say so now.

"You kind of have to close your eyes to fall asleep," Kurt mumbles, already feeling himself start to drift off. He doesn't let his own eyes close yet - he wants to see if Blaine can fall asleep like this, make sure it works.

Blaine turns to look at him and - god, they're almost close enough to kiss, and Kurt has to banish all thoughts of that from his mind _right now. _Instead he focuses on how sad Blaine looks, and how desperate. "Why do you still care so much?" He asks softly.

"I don't know how not to," Kurt sighs, only half-aware that he's speaking. He burrows into the blankets. "Try to sleep. I'm right here, it's okay."

"…okay."

Blaine lies still for a while longer, but eventually, his breathing starts to slow along with Kurt's. Kurt's last waking memory - and he later wonders if he dreamed it - is of Blaine's hand, warm and familiar, covering his where it lies between them on the bed.

Only then are they both able to slip into oblivion.

* * *

><p>The second time Kurt wakes up, he only has the vaguest memory of dreaming before reality punches him in the proverbial face.<p>

Blaine is a cuddler. This is something that Kurt should have remembered, before inviting Blaine into his bed. It's never intentional, but no matter whom he sleeps next to, Blaine always ends up wrapped around them, like he gravitates toward other warm bodies. It's endearing, precious even, but…

But Blaine is pressed up against Kurt's back, feet tangled at the end of the bed, hips flush to Kurt's ass. And Kurt can feel every inch of his hard cock through the thin, flannel pajama pants he wears.

He moans softly as he wakes up to the feeling, forgetting for a moment where he is, his first instinct to press back into the hardness against him. It fills him with an overwhelming, all-consuming rush of _lust _through his entire body, little electric shocks through his veins. The quiet sound wakes Blaine from his fitful slumber, and he sighs and rolls his hips forward into Kurt before he realizes what he's doing and freezes.

Kurt holds his breath and stays quiet, not sure what else to do. He knows that he has to end this, whatever it is, now, but his mind is still fuzzy from sleep and desire and he can't bring himself to move, never _ever _wants to.

Blaine sucks in his breath and tries to disentangle himself, quickly rolling onto his back, but only manages to drag Kurt with him with the way the blankets are wrapped around the two of them. "_Sorry, _oh god I am so sorry -"

"Don't go," Kurt whimpers, voice slurred from sleep. His hand shoots back to touch Blaine as he rolls over, to keep him close, and ends up high on his thigh. "Please don't go."

Blaine stiffens, and the skin and muscle under Kurt's hand seems almost scorching hot, and it makes his fingers ache to _touch, _anywhere, everywhere. Somewhere, in the corner of his mind, he knows that he shouldn't, that he's such a hypocrite, a horrible person - he's the one who rejected Blaine, not the other way around like his behavior would suggest. The rest of him is overpowered by pure instinct, and _want._ Ever since _that _night, it's been so hard not to think about, and Kurt finally has to admit that he just isn't strong enough to resist. He flexes his hand, squeezing Blaine's thigh, and the sound that comes out of Blaine's mouth - sharp, quiet, barely audible except that he's so close - sends a surge of heat from Kurt's toes all the way up his spine.

"Kurt?" Blaine whispers, eyes wide and shining.

"Can I…?" He trails off, doesn't wait for an answer before he takes the plunge and lays his hand between Blaine's legs. He doesn't move, doesn't stroke, just cups and feels the outline of Blaine's hard cock through the thin fabric. It's not anything he hasn't felt before, of course, but it still thrills him.

Blaine moans, low in his throat, already fighting to stop his hips from arching off the mattress. "Yes, god, _yes,_" he says, and there goes any sort of resolve Kurt might have had. He squeezes gently and rubs down once, listening for the shuddery hitch in Blaine's breath. Blaine's head lolls to the side and his eyes flutter closed, the tiny bit of light from the window casting shadows from his eyelashes on his cheeks. His legs fall open and invite Kurt in, and the sight of him _still _takes Kurt's breath away, sucks it straight out of his lungs, even after everything.

Kurt curls around him, rubbing and stroking and exploring through the fabric as he hesitantly presses kisses to Blaine's skin where his t-shirt has been tugged down on his shoulder. He doesn't kiss Blaine's lips, though, doesn't dare to, and he's not sure _why _that's a line he can't cross but it's there all the same.

"Please," Blaine gasps, his own hand reaching out blindly to touch Kurt, somewhere, _anywhere. _He ends up with his palm flat against Kurt's belly, slipping under his shirt to feel all the soft skin and hard muscle underneath, and Kurt automatically presses forward into the touch. "_Please _don't stop oh _god -_"

"Fuck, what am I doing?" Kurt whispers to himself, blushing when he realizes he said it aloud. But what _is _he doing, what came over him, how could he make himself stop now when that's the very last thing either of them _wants? _ The feeling of Blaine writhing under his hands is just too, too much and he doesn't think he _can _stop, now.

"Don't think," Blaine says breathlessly, his hand searching further until his fingers brush one of Kurt's sensitive nipples, sending shudders up Kurt's spine. "Don't _think _about it so much, just -"

_- just touch._

Kurt sits up to get a better angle, his wrist aching already where it was twisted in such an odd way, and leans over Blaine where he's laid out and waiting. Just _waiting _for Kurt to do what he wants, trusting Kurt to take care of him even though he's just as unsure of what's happening, here. It's almost scary, but Kurt doesn't think about it. Thinking too much would end this and he can't do that, he couldn't stop now if his life depended on it. Doesn't think when he hooks his fingers in the waistband of Blaine's pants, spares only a passing thought of appreciation when Blaine lifts his hips off the bed to let Kurt tug them down and off. Next comes Kurt's shirt, tossed carelessly to the side, and Blaine ducks down to kiss up his chest as he pulls it up and over his head. And soon they're both naked, and Kurt doesn't let himself think much about that, either - doesn't even have to, he has every inch of Blaine memorized anyway. That doesn't mean he doesn't still like to _look, _but for now, he doesn't. He moves on autopilot, follows his instincts and wraps a hand around Blaine's cock, hot and long and hard and _perfect _and just the weight of it in Kurt's hand, still the same as ever, is enough to get him achingly hard too.

Blaine's breathing goes harsh as Kurt starts to pump up and down with a twist of his wrist and his thumb swiping over the head to collect the beads of precome already forming there, slicking up his hand _just _enough to make it perfect. The movement is just like muscle memory; he still remembers every single way to make Blaine fall apart, and he can't help but be pleased even though he's trying not to think about anything at all.

Blaine moans and his hips roll up into Kurt's hand, fucking into his fist for a moment before he lays a hand over Kurt's. "Let me," he pleads, and Kurt doesn't know what he means but nods anyway. Blaine's hands find Kurt's hips and grip them tight, flipping them both over and pushing Kurt into the mattress, the bed bouncing a little with the motion. It makes Kurt almost want to laugh, but he doesn't. Blaine settles over him and reaches down to grasp both their cocks in one hand, and it's messy and his hand isn't quite big enough for the two of them but it feels too good for Kurt to care. _He _feels good, for all the guilt he had felt just a few minutes ago - not thinking helps, he decides, because he can just focus on everything he's feeling and not what it _means._

He whimpers as Blaine tries to stroke the two of them together, unable to stop himself from thrusting up into the touch. Their skin is already covered in just enough sweat to make them slide against each other, everywhere they touch."_Fuck, _Blaine -"

"Shh," Blaine breathes. He kisses and then sucks at Kurt's neck, sure to leave a bruise but Kurt is so far past caring. He keeps rolling his hips up and Blaine grinds down and it's messy and desperate, no sort of rhythm at all. He's always loved this, for some reason, his cock rubbing and sliding against Blaine's, the contrast of soft skin and the hardness underneath and their hands keeping them pressed together - god, just _everything _about it is almost too perfect even when Blaine can't quite find a rhythm.

He can't stop touching, tracing the sharp outlines of Blaine's hipbones and ribcage with his hands, feeling how thin he's gotten, so thin it's almost worrying. He's let himself go, stopped keeping himself healthy because he just doesn't care enough, and Kurt will have to talk to him about it soon - but not now. Now he scrapes his blunt fingernails down Blaine's back and revels in the way it makes his hips buck forward, his thrusts stuttering as he groans low in his throat. "_Nnngh, _Kurt, _fuck -_"

"Close," Kurt gasps out, not even ashamed as he feels the familiar, unmistakable heat coiling at the base of his spine. He's going to come just from this, just from Blaine's hand. _God. _"So fucking close, Blaine -"

"Come on, then," Blaine growls, and grinds down _hard _and that's enough to push Kurt over the edge. His hips jerk up and he comes, hot and sticky all over their chests and Blaine's hand.

He doesn't give himself time to recover before he's scrambling up and pushing Blaine up with him, ducking his head and taking as much of Blaine into his mouth as he can, all at once. Blaine chokes on a moan, obviously fighting to keep still, trembling with the effort of it. Kurt bobs his head until he can't go down any further without choking, then pulls back up, tongue tracing over a thick vein and around the edge of the head. Blaine's hands tangle in the sheets beneath him, gripping them so tight his knuckles turn white. Kurt wraps a hand around the base of Blaine's cock and jerks him off, slick with spit, as he sucks and licks around the head of Blaine's cock, then down, sliding his lips down the shaft before he sucks one of Blaine's balls into his mouth.

Blaine bites his lip to keep from moaning too loud, trembles and shakes and falls apart underneath Kurt's mouth and hands. If Kurt hadn't just come absurdly hard he would probably be close again, just from the taste and smell and _feeling _of Blaine hot and heavy on his tongue, just from making him feel good - once upon a time he would have, for a certainty, but they're not as young as they used to be.

"Want you to come," Kurt mumble in between mouthfuls, his grip around Blaine's cock tighter now, moving faster. He's consumed, overcome with the need to make Blaine feel good, even just for a moment. "Wanna see, Blaine…"

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," Blaine groans, and without warning he tangles his fingers in Kurt's hair, forcing him down onto Blaine's cock. He only does that when he's close, when he wants to come in Kurt's mouth. Kurt bobs his head faster, and licks and sucks harder, every trick he knows, until Blaine's cock twitches and jerks, and then Blaine's hand tightens in Kurt's hair, holds him still as he cries out and comes down Kurt's throat, the taste salty and a little bitter and still the same as Kurt remembers. His hips jerk again when Kurt swallows around him, almost making Kurt choke, but by now he's had enough practice that it doesn't matter much.

Blaine is gorgeous when he comes, everything in him tensing, straining and shaking, head tipped back, and eyes closed. Kurt has to roll his eyes back uncomfortably far to see him from this angle, but there's no way he can look away.

He keeps moving after Blaine's hand relaxes, no longer pulling on Kurt's hair and making his scalp sting. Keeps trailing his lips and tongue up and down the length of him, sucks on the head and licks the slit there to chase the last taste of Blaine's come. He keeps at it until Blaine's sounds of pleasure turn to discomfort, and then finally lets him go, his softening cock falling from Kurt's lips.

He lies down, watching as Blaine does the same, their breathing labored and heavy as they come down. Kurt couldn't form a coherent thought if his life depended on it, and he likes it that way. The sheets smell like Blaine's sweat and he never wants to move again.

It's not long before his mind starts to work again, though. He can't write this off as a fluke, anymore, a onetime mistake, he could almost believe it before but not after this. It's real and it happened and he doesn't know why or what to do, and he should feel ashamed, he should run away, he should never have let this happen again, but -

But he doesn't feel any of those things, not yet. He just feels sort of numb, not happy or upset, just - tired, mostly. Tired of fighting it. But he knows it isn't that simple, so he tries to speak, says hesitantly, "Blaine -"

"We don't have to talk about it."

Kurt looks up at him, and he's a little surprised when Blaine makes eye contact. "What?"

"We don't have to talk. It's okay." Blaine tries to smile, and it's not quite convincing, doesn't quite reach his eyes, still broken. But god, it's an effort, and it's still beautiful. "It's okay."

He knows what Blaine's doing, and gratitude wells up in him until he feels like he's bursting with it. He's giving Kurt an out, giving him a chance - time to think, or not think, time to figure out what this is and what he even wants. Even if that might not be what _Blaine _wants.

_I know how hard this is for you, _Blaine had said. He's starting to feel empathy again, to _care,_ to think about others besides himself and his own misery, and though Kurt doesn't blame him for focusing on himself, he wonders if that means Blaine's breaking through the fog of depression he's been stuck in for so long. God, he hopes so. Kurt is overwhelmed, all at once, by how much he loves this beautiful, broken man.

He can't say it; not yet, he doesn't know when or if he can, he's still so _confused. _He feels like if he says it, before he knows for sure what it means and what he wants, their careful equilibrium will shatter to pieces and leave them both worse off than before. Even in his head, he can't quite explain why he feels that way, but it's still true. So he keeps his feeling hidden as best as he can, locked deep in his chest where no one can see, not even himself, because this isn't and will never be about him and he has to stop treating it like it is. It's about Blaine, and he's not going to add his own selfishness on top of Blaine's struggles anymore.

"Thank you," Kurt says, voice still a little hoarse - and he's not sure if he's thanking Blaine for the sex, or not making him talk about it, or both. Blaine nods, his fingers stroking through Kurt's thoroughly mussed hair as he closes his eyes. It's the only place they touch, no post-sex cuddling this time, but it's sort of a separation between what they're doing now, and the way they used to be.

This time, Kurt sleeps without dreaming.

* * *

><p>The third time Kurt wakes up, he's alone, but the bed is still warm.<p>

There's a voice tickling at the edges of his mind, and music, so familiar it makes him smile and want to snuggle deep into the blankets and sleep the morning away. Like he's fallen asleep to these sounds a hundred times before.

_Because he has,_ he realizes, with a jolt that wakes him instantly.

Blaine is playing music.

Kurt pulls on his bathrobe for the second time that morning and tiptoes out into the hall, peeking around the corner to look into the living room. Amelia is eating cereal at the kitchen table and playing with the old Power Ranger action figures Kurt had given her from his childhood collection, chattering away to herself, lost in her own imaginary world and not noticing Kurt. Blaine is sitting on the couch, the Saturday morning sunlight from the window shining on him, his guitar cradled in his lap, and he's _playing. _

Kurt hasn't heard him play since before the divorce. Music had always been such a huge part of Blaine's life, but then he had just _stopped _and Kurt had never understood why until recently. Hearing it again hurts in the best way, even when the song is quiet and unpolished.

_"You are the hole in my head,_ _  
>you are the space in my bed,<br>you are the silence in between,  
>what I thought and what I said,<br>you are the nighttime fear,  
>you are the morning when it's clear,<br>when it's over, you're the start,  
>you're my head and you're my heart…"<em>

And he's singing, too. Stilted and stumbling, slow and out of practice just like his playing, but still just as wonderful as ever. Kurt vaguely recognizes the song from years ago, not familiar enough to put a name to but enough to spark his memory. He leans against the wall, breathing shakily and trying to keep quiet and watching as Blaine plays.

"_No light, no light,_ _  
>in your bright blue eyes,<br>I never knew daylight could be so violent,  
>a revelation in the light of day,<em>  
><em>you can't choose what stays and what fades away,<em>  
><em>and I'd do anything to make you stay,<em>  
><em>no light, no light,<em>  
><em>tell me what you want me to say…<em>

_You want a revelation,_  
><em>you want to get right,<em>  
><em>but it's a conversation I just can't have tonight,<em>  
><em>you want a revelation,<em>  
><em>some kind of resolution,<em>  
><em>you want a revelation,<em>  
><em>tell me what you want me to say…"<em>

The song trails off, the last few notes he plays soft and dwindling, and as the silence fills the apartment, Blaine looks lost and almost afraid.

Kurt turns around and walks back to his room before Blaine can see him watching, and tries not to dwell on the song and the look on Blaine's face, or the way his throat tightens and burns - doesn't think about anything at all.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **The song Blaine is singing at the end is _No Light, No Light _by the flawless Florence + The Machine. Be sure to check it out!


	16. A Moment That I Could Just Understand

"I can't believe this," Kurt repeats, muttering under his breath.

"She's just a kid, Kurt. She's bound to make mistakes."

"All her teachers say she's an angel at school! They _rave _about how well behaved she is." This, Kurt realizes, is a bit odd considering how much of a brat she can be when she feels like it.

"First time for everything?" Blaine shrugs, glancing at Kurt from where he sits in the passenger's seat.

"And the principal didn't say what she did?"

Blaine shakes his head. "No, just that she had to be taken out of class. I guess we'll find out."

He looks worried, but he's hiding it better than Kurt, who scowls and keeps drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he drives. Kurt isn't _angry, _because he doesn't know what Amelia did to get in trouble, but he's definitely not happy about this sudden change in behavior. He'd almost had to leave work early to pick her up, but luckily, she had chosen to schedule her rebellion just as Kurt got home. Blaine had insisted on coming along, too, needing to see that Amelia was okay with his own eyes.

_He really _is _a good father_, Kurt thinks, glancing over at Blaine in what he hopes is a subtle way but probably isn't. He'd spent so long trying to get Amelia back, while Blaine was at his lowest point, that he had lost sight of what a good dad Blaine can be when he's in his right mind. When he's not wasted, he's exactly what Kurt had imagined when he started daydreaming about babies. The enthusiasm when he plays with her, his excitement when she learns to read or spell a new word, the way he looks at her like she's his own little miracle - he just _loves her _the way only Blaine can love something, with every inch of his heart. Kurt can't help but smile, when he watches them together, though it's laced with melancholy. Sometimes it seems like Blaine and Amelia are their own unit, a team, and Kurt isn't sure how to fit into it after all this time… or if he's even wanted there. It makes sense, Blaine has been Amelia's primary caretaker for as long as she can probably remember - even when he wasn't fit to be - but that doesn't stop it from being weird.

"Kurt, I'm sure it's not a big deal." Blaine says softly. "So she got in trouble. We have a talk with her and send her to her room for a while. That's all we can do."

"Yeah…" Kurt sighs. "I know, it's just the first time I've had to deal with this. Sure, she gets in trouble at home, but she's never done anything that can't be solved with a little time-out. Why would they have to take her out of class?"

"We're about to find out. Here we are."

Kurt parks the car and locks it, walking the now-familiar path through Amelia's school - mixed ages, so there are elementary school children boarding the busses as well as the pre-school kids like Amelia waiting for their parents. It's the first time he's been here with Blaine, though - they almost feel like a proper married couple again, walking side by side to pick up their kid. It's more than a little strange.

She's waiting for them in a chair outside the principal's office along with one of the teachers, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the floor, and looking so much like Blaine that it's scary. The teacher, Mrs. Williams, is a severe silver-haired woman who always looks like she's sucking on a lemon, and Kurt doesn't understand why she chose to be around children constantly when she obviously hates them. Of course, it would be Mrs. Williams that catches Amelia getting into trouble, not young and perky Ms. James. Amelia has nothing but good to say about her.

Amelia's bottom lip wobbles when she looks up and sees her parents, and she hugs her knees up to her chest and hides her face in her arms.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" Kurt asks gently, kneeling in front of her. She shakes her head and refuses to look up, and Kurt glances to Mrs. Williams for help while Blaine tries to convince Amelia to get up and gather her things. It's a losing battle. "What did she do?"

"Amelia hit another student. _Twice. _We had to physically restrain them."

"Amelia!" Kurt turns back to her, shocked at what he's hearing. It's something he's drilled into her head from as early as she could understand - _it's never okay to hurt someone. _And from the look on Mrs. Williams' face, the incident was _serious. _"Amelia, you know that isn't okay!"

"Why on earth would you do that?" Blaine asks, looking as surprised as Kurt is. Amelia finally lifts her head, but still keeps her lips firmly sealed. "I am _so _sorry, Mrs. Williams, I'm sure it won't happen again."

"I certainly hope not."

"Do you know the full story, ma'am?" Kurt asks.

"I'm afraid not. The boy who she punched, last I saw, hasn't stopped crying long enough to tell me his side." She doesn't meet their eyes when she says it, and something about that strikes Kurt as odd, but he'll ponder it later.

"God. Again, we're so sorry."

Finally, Amelia speaks up. "He _deserved _it," she mutters.

"Amelia Elizabeth Hummel!" Kurt scolds.

"But he did!"

"That's _enough_." He grabs her hand and tugs her up out of the chair, and she goes without a fuss, slinging her little purple backpack over her shoulder and following them. "I am very upset with you, and we don't want to hear a word until we get home, understand?"

She keeps that promise, uncharacteristically quiet the whole silent drive home, but by the time they park outside the apartment building, she looks on the verge of tears. When they get home, she whispers, "Should I go to the time-out corner, Daddy?"

"Not yet." Kurt sighs, glancing at Blaine for a moment before he leads her over to the couch and sits her down. "First we need to talk about what happened."

She sniffles. "Okay." She bows her head as Kurt and Blaine sit on either side of her.

"Why don't you tell us everything that happened?" Blaine asks gently. "From the beginning."

"Well, Mrs. Williams was talking about families and how everybody's family is different, like some people have two mommies or a daddy and a mommy or just a mommy. So she told us to talk about our families. And I said I have a daddy and a papa, and my friend Max has two mommies! And then George Turner started making fun of us." She makes a face, scrunching her nose up in distaste.

Blaine and Kurt glance up at each other, the worry in Blaine's eyes making it obvious that they're thinking the same thing. Kurt had wondered if she would have to face bullying someday, too, but he hadn't expected it to happen so _young… _but then, hadn't it started early for him, too? He'd always been punished for being different, even from that age. But he never wants the same for her. "What did he say, Amelia?"

She bites her lip. "I have to say a bad word to tell you."

"It's okay, you won't get in trouble for it."

"'Kay." Amelia takes a deep breath. "George said that - that my daddies are _fags._ That's a bad word for liking boys, right?"

Kurt closes his eyes. Obviously the teacher had been present - had she just turned a blind eye to all of this? Not that Kurt isn't used to that, all of his teachers at McKinley had operated on a policy of 'if we didn't see it, it didn't happen', but he'd expected more from these people. Even in New York, homophobia still exists, but the circle Kurt operates in is so isolated from _that _that he forgets sometimes. He's going to have a serious talk with the school soon... no matter what Amelia turns out to be, gay or straight, he's _not _going to tolerate a homophobic teacher. He won't let her go through what he did.

"Yes, it is, and you know to never say that word, right?"

"Right. And then Max said that it's okay bad for boys to like boys or for girls to like girls. And then George said that it _is _bad because his daddy said so. And I told him that he's stupid and he said _I'm _stupid and Max and me are going to hell and Max started crying and George said he was a fag too 'cause he was crying, so I punched him 'cause I was so mad." She's out of breath by the time she finishes, and she glances back and forth between her fathers, eyes wide and fearful. "I didn't mean to make him cry, though. I'm really really really _really _sorry, I was just so super mad…"

"We know, honey," Blaine says, stroking a lock of her hair. "But it's still not okay, no matter how mad you get."

"George is so stupid." Her chin wobbles with held back tears.

"No, he just doesn't know better," Kurt corrects. "His mommy or daddy told him all those wrong things, so he thinks they're true. Smart people like you need to teach him better. But we have to use our words, not out fists, remember?" He remembers the rest of what the teacher had told them, and hesitates a moment before saying, "Mrs. Williams said you hit George twice."

Amelia stares down at her feet, and mumbles, "Uh-huh."

"Why? Did he keep picking on you?"

"He said…" she pauses to sniffle before continuing. "After we got out of time-out we kept talking about families and stuff, and I said that my daddy and papa are divorced and live in different houses, so I have two houses and two bedrooms and two everything else. And George said that if you're divorced that means you don't love each other anymore."

Kurt feels his breath hitch, his mouth falling open as if to speak but no sound comes out. He can't look at Blaine, _can't, _terrified of what he would see, terrified of what he might say if they make eye contact. Blaine stays silent, too.

"I know he was just being stupid and lying," Amelia continues. "I mean, of _course _you guys still love each other, anyone can see _that._ But it still made me super mad."

Luckily, Kurt doesn't have to think about what he can say to that, because Blaine is sucking in a deep breath and then scooting off the couch, crouching on the floor so that he's looking straight into Amelia's eyes when he speaks. "I know you were mad. Everyone gets mad sometimes. I get mad a lot. It makes you want to just yell and be mean to everyone, doesn't it? Especially when people say mean things to you. I know how that feels." He looks over at Kurt, now, meeting his eyes and he's like a magnet, drawing Kurt in. He holds Kurt's gaze as he continues speaking to Amelia, soft and gentle, and Kurt holds his breath in as he watches the way Blaine's soft lips form the words. "All you want to do is hurt them too, and make them feel as bad as you do. But in the end, all it does is make you feel even worse than before."

And all at once, Kurt knows that he isn't talking about Amelia and her bully. Not really. The way he looks at Kurt like he's _begging _him to understand what he's saying… oh. It's an apology. Twisted and indirect but _something _like an apology nonetheless or maybe more like an acknowledgement. Admitting that what he did was wrong. Either way, it makes Kurt want to cry, or laugh or run away or _anything _but instead he sits there, frozen in shock, as Blaine hides an apology in a lecture to their daughter.

_Why is this so hard? _Kurt wants to scream. _Why is it so difficult for you to just say sorry, why can't _I _just get the fuck over it already…?_

Amelia speaks up again, drawing Blaine's eyes away from Kurt and finally allowing him to _breathe _again. "Yeah. I feel bad." she mumbles.

"Why?"

"'Cause… it's not okay to hit?" She says it more like a question than an answer.

"Yep. Never ever. Because that's being a bully. Whether you're hurting someone with your hands or your words, it's still bullying, and no daughter of mine is going to be a bully, understand? Everyone makes mistakes, but that doesn't mean you can get away with it."

He talks to her like she's a grown-up, and she responds to that better than if he babied her. "I'm really sorry," Amelia repeats.

"Well, here's what you can do to make it better," Kurt says, suddenly struck with an idea, a way he can actually contribute instead of feeling like the bad parent, the one who doles out punishments while Blaine sits and patiently talks through everything with her. She turns to look at him. "You should say sorry to George when you see him tomorrow."

"But I don't want to! He was mean to me first!"

"It doesn't matter. Say sorry, and then _talk_ to him about why he hurt your feelings. Teach him that what he said was wrong." _Since obviously the teacher isn't going to do anything about it, _he adds to himself, more than a little bitter about it.

"But what he doesn't listen?"

Kurt shrugs. That, he doesn't have a solution to. "Then you know that you did all you could and that you did the right thing. That's all you can do, and it makes you better than him." He doesn't miss the little smile that quirks at Blaine's lips, or the look in his eyes, almost like _pride, _and Kurt feels his cheeks flush a little.

"I don't know what to say."

"That's okay, I'll help you." Blaine sits up on his knees and kisses her cheek. "We can practice what you want to say together, if you want."

"Sure!" Amelia bounces up and down in her seat. "Thanks, Papa!"

"See, you're too sweet to _really _be a bully. I know you won't do it again. Right?"

"I pinky-promise." Blaine lifts his little finger, expression entirely serious, and Amelia wraps her pinky around his to seal the deal. "Can I have time-out in my room?"

Blaine glances to Kurt, who shrugs. "Yeah, okay. We'll come get you when it's suppertime." She jumps up and is gone before they can say anything else, all too eager to take her punishment - maybe sending her to where all her toys are was a bad idea, but it's too late now, so Kurt decides to forget it. And then they're alone, with Blaine still sitting on the floor in front of the couch, sneaking little glances up at him. And Kurt, as seems to be the norm lately, can't keep from staring.

Blaine looks better lately, at least on the outside, the bags and dark circles around his eyes disappearing, his eyes less haunted and his cheeks less gaunt. Sometimes he even bothers to do his hair and shave. It's the wonder of sleeping through the night after two years of hell. Blaine ends up in Kurt's bed more often than not, slipping between the sheets as Kurt starts to doze, and they both drift off easier with the sound of another's breathing next to them. Waking up to the familiar feeling of Blaine crowding his personal space in the morning is one of the most emotionally confusing things he's ever felt, warm affection mingling with bitterness and regret - and yes, anger, still bubbling below the surface no matter how much he wishes it would stop. And Blaine always stays through the night, always - except when they fuck.

It's never planned - hands start to wander, the need for a warm body against his gets to be too strong, and now that they've started this they won't stop, muffling their moans and whimpers into the other's skin. Blaine never stays, after that. They'll lie there for a while, not talking or kissing or cuddling or anything _meaningful, _like they're just another one-night stand, and every time, Kurt wonders how much longer Blaine will put up with not talking about it. He'll lay there until Kurt is nearly asleep, and then he'll slip out of the bed and retreat to his own room after the shower runs for a few minutes, leaving Kurt's bed huge and empty and cold.

Kurt wonders if he should feel used, or guilty for using Blaine if that's what's happening (his feelings are so muddled that he doesn't even _know _anymore) but he just… doesn't. He doesn't feel much of anything afterwards, really, no unfamiliar emotions - just the need to be close, though he's afraid of closing the gap and pulling Blaine into his arms. Every single time, he's baffled by how he manages to shove all his feelings aside, save for a twinge of guilt when he sees Blaine the next morning, looking like he hasn't slept a wink. But that's hardly Kurt's fault. He never _tells _Blaine to leave, he just… doesn't ask him to stay, either, even when he wants to.

There must be some strange expression on Kurt's face, because Blaine tilts his head and murmurs, "What is it?"

There are so many things Kurt could bring up, but instead of anything _important, _any of the multitudes of things Kurt _could _and _should_ and _has to _say, he blurts out, "You're a really good dad."

Blaine's whole face turns red, and he stares down at the gray carpet. "Nah."

"Yes you are. You… you _understand _her. You know how to talk to her. This is the first time we've really had to give her a _talk, _and I had no idea what to say. And you have a whole fucking speech."

The expression on Blaine's face turns wary. "You sound mad."

"No, no, I just - I'm glad. That she has you." It's not what he means to say, not at all, but he's mostly babbling anyway. "I don't know how to talk to her. You'd think that with a dad like mine I'd have picked up a few skills, but…" He sighs and slumps back. "I'm not a good father."

"Kurt, stop it." He startles when he looks back at Blaine, at the way Blaine almost looks _angry. "_Don't talk like that. At least you're not drunk half the time like I was, at least you're _sane._"

"But -"

"Spend time with her. Really get to _know _her, that's the only way to be better. She's a person, just like anyone else, you know? And you don't know everything about her just because she's your kid. I know you love her, but you have to make an effort to _know _her too." Blaine huffs out a short laugh and rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. "I didn't mean to rant."

"No, no. I get it." Not that it doesn't sting a little, but he _does _understand, enough to shove away the hurt. Blaine props his chin on his hand and his elbow on the couch cushion at he stares up at Kurt, expression unreadable. "I wouldn't have kept her away from you, you know. Back… then."

Blaine swallows, biting his lip and glancing away. "I know," he murmurs. "I know that, now. I knew that then, too, I think, I was just... so scared of losing her." Kurt nods, because he understands that too, the fear. It was one of the scariest times of his life to date. He had been gifted with this _miracle _of a child and he couldn't even keep her close and safe.

"I remember, one of the first times I got to see her, after you… took her." Kurt sucks in a ragged breath. Remembering that day still hurts too much. "She hardly even knew me, she just kept asking for her papa. Couldn't even have fun together because I was so upset… It was worse than not seeing her at all. I don't even know why I'm telling you this, but… yeah."

"I was such an idiot. I should have let you keep her from the beginning."

"She was all you had left."

"I was selfish."

There's no denying it, so Kurt just nods. "Never again, though. She needs both of us. Whatever we work out when all this is over…" he tries his hardest to ignore how his stomach clenches at the thought of Blaine leaving. "It'll be fair. We don't get to use her against each other again, it's not right and we should _never _have stooped that low. We have no room to be selfish when it comes to her."

"It'll be different," Blaine agrees. "I'll be all better by then; I'll be able to take care of her the way she deserves. No more letting my issues getting in the way."

It's the first time Kurt has heard him talk about the future, even in vague terms. Most of the time, it's as if Blaine is living day-to-day, not bothering to wonder or _care _if he'll live another day. But this… this is looking forward to when he's better. _When, _not _if_ anymore, and Kurt is struck by how far he's come, even if it's still slow going. Not long ago, Blaine couldn't admit that something was wrong, and after that, he hadn't believed he could heal at all. Now it's an inevitability, perhaps far in the future but a definite thing.

Kurt wonders just how much longer Blaine is going to need him.

"Not bad for a first family meeting, was it?" Blaine says with an attempt at a smile, and Kurt grins right back. Because they are still a family, in some bizarre way - dysfunctional, without a doubt, but they're slowly figuring out how to make it work again. For the first time in years, Kurt thinks that maybe he does have a place in Blaine and Amelia's little unit after all.

"Not bad at all," Kurt agrees.


	17. In The Shadow Of Your Heart

****Warnings:**** Sort of rough sex (gets right into it too, so if you don't like it, it's at the very beginning and easy to skim over), thoughts of self harm.

I have some links to share with you! First, the lovely lokicorey on Tumblr made me two posters for the story! Go see them, they're perfect! androidsfighting[.]tumblr[.]com/post/20837547040/posters  
>And secondly, I have posted on my tumblr a playlist for this fic and a graphic I whipped up really quick, complete with youtube links! androidsfighting[.]tumblr[.]compost/21520174249/hurricane-verse-playlist

Just remove the brackets on the links. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

><p>It's a Wednesday afternoon and Kurt is being slammed back into the wall, big strong hands gripping him tight and holding him up as Blaine's hips slam up into his. His long legs wrap tight around Blaine's waist and cling tight, his hands around Blaine's biceps and squeezing hard enough to bruise. He doesn't quite know how they got to this point but when Blaine thrusts up hard, pushing Kurt higher up on the wall, he can't find it in him to complain. He groans loud, not caring about how sore his back will be later, or how much the neighbors must hate him for how <em>loud <em>they get when they have the chance. All around him is nothing but _Blaine, _Blaine's hands on him and the low moans he can't help but make, vibrating throughout his whole body.

"Yeah, right there," Kurt gasps, but of course, Blaine knows that, knows _him, _knows every way to make him feel good. His hands scrabble at Blaine's shoulders and arms and back, unable to decide where he wants to touch so he just settles for _everywhere. _Blaine pounds into him almost hard enough to hurt, but not quite - just enough to feel fucking incredible. Blaine is so _careful _with him, every time, even when he's rough there's always an edge of tenderness.

Kurt has almost given up on feeling guilty about what they're doing. Almost. But the only way he succeeds is by not thinking about it too much at all. He lets himself go, when they're like this together, sweaty and sticky and not caring one bit. He doesn't care about anything but _this_, writhing under Blaine's wandering hands and rolling his hips down to meet him, fucking himself down on Blaine's cock.

He takes the hand that had been tangling itself in Blaine's unkempt hair and lifts it to Blaine's lips, letting Blaine lick and kiss and mouth at the palm of Kurt's hand for a few moments before he tugs it away again. He wraps his slick hand tight around his own cock, pumping in time with Blaine's thrusts, which stutter when he looks down at Kurt, eyes wide until his closes them. "Fuck," he groans. He thrusts up again, not fast like before but _hard_, driving into him and making Kurt jolt and cry out whenever Blaine hits that bundle of nerves deep inside him. "Like that?"

"_Uh-huh…"_

It doesn't take him long to come after that, his whole body arching toward Blaine's, mouth falling open, unable to make any sound but tiny whimpers as come splatters over their chests. Blaine doesn't last any longer, one more thrust and he's stilling, muffling his moans into the crook of Kurt's neck. They both go limp, sagging against each other, and Blaine's breath comes hot and heavy in the aftermath of his release, panting against Kurt's shoulder, eyes closed tight.

It's strangely quiet after that, after their moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin die away. Kurt feels like the apartment is a bubble from the outside world, as if they've been taken out of time. Like they could just stay like this forever and it would be okay.

They don't move for a long time, and Blaine is still inside of Kurt and holding him up while Kurt clings to him, probably looking ridiculous but not caring because there's no one else to see. No one else knows about them, after all, not even Rachel, and he tells her _everything_. (He's not sure if Blaine would tell Santana, but he assumes that she would mention it on one of her visits to see Blaine if she did know. She can't help but provide a running, judgmental commentary on _everyone's _sex life.) Rachel would judge him even if she said she didn't, and he judges himself way too much to want any more of that.

It can't be comfortable for Blaine, staying like this, and Kurt's spine is starting to ache and they're both oversensitive to every shift, hissing when they brush against sensitive skin. But Blaine is still stroking little nonsense patterns on Kurt's hipbones and burrowing his face into the crook of his neck, and neither of them are in a hurry to leave. He shuts his eyes and lets his head tip back to thunk against the wall, still trembling with the intensity of it, absently letting his fingers card through Blaine's sweaty hair.

Blaine nuzzles into Kurt's skin once before he lifts his head, staring straight into Kurt's eyes when he opens them. It's almost startling, the way Blaine looks at him, for some reason that Kurt can't quite explain. Kurt wishes that he didn't have this ridiculous self-imposed rule against kissing, as if _that_ actually removes any emotional connection that might come along with this, because Blaine looks sinfully kissable, now and always.

"We have to talk about this," Blaine says softly. He lifts a hand, trembling imperceptibly, to touch Kurt's cheek, stroke across his jaw and cheekbones with feather-light brushes of his fingertips. It's impossibly tender, overwhelmingly terrifying.

Kurt tries to force his heart back where it belongs instead of letting it leap up into his throat to choke him, and gives a minute shake of his head. _You're the one who said we didn't have to, _Kurt thinks, but he knows that's different. It was just a postponement, giving Kurt a little extra time to sort through his feelings… which he very much has not. He's still just as confused as before, but he doesn't _want _to figure it out. He _knows _that if he manages to think straight for once he'll realize what a mistake this all is.

He's not ready for it to be over yet. Not when Blaine is warm all around him and looking so beautiful it actually breaks his heart to see. Not now.

"Kurt," Blaine says, and Kurt can't do it, can't make eye contact any longer. He looks away for something to focus on - the lampshade, the curtains, or the mess in the kitchen that he was supposed to be cleaning up before they somehow ended up here. Anything but looking into Blaine's eyes and seeing the hurt, and worse, the _hope _there.

"I know," Kurt says. Blaine's breath shudders out of him, and he lets his hand fall away, leaving tingly spots on Kurt's skin in its wake. He wraps his arms around Blaine's shoulders and pulls him in close. "But not today."

"Not today," Blaine echoes, and Kurt takes that as an agreement, or close enough.

* * *

><p>The time comes sooner than Kurt would have liked. Amelia is at her friend Max's house for the night, her first full night away from one of her dads. Apparently the bullying incident - quickly resolved, thank god - had brought the two of them even closer together. "We're like <em>best friends <em>now or something!" Amelia had exclaimed. Kurt had fretted over the sleepover until Blaine calmed him down and he was assured that she could call or come home the moment she needed to.

So they have the house to themselves for once, and Blaine is in Kurt's lap and pressed all around him, sucking bruises into the sensitive skin of Kurt's neck. It's close enough to real kissing to make Kurt nervous but not close enough to make him put an end to it. Kurt groans, his hips bucking up into Blaine's, the only thing separating them their underwear and Kurt's undershirt. He shoves them down over the curve of Blaine's ass, grabbing and squeezing and pushing them closer together, groaning when Blaine grinds down into his lap.

"Want you." Blaine gasps out, suddenly close and breathing hot in Kurt's ear. Kurt whimpers. They don't really talk _during, _not often, but the sound of Blaine's voice deep and growly with desire makes Kurt crazy. "Want you so bad."

He kisses up Kurt's jaw, a bit of stubble tickling Kurt's clean-shaven skin, and that's nice, all of that is good - until Blaine's lips are covering Kurt's, all at once like he was trying to do it fast before he lost his nerve. Kurt's first instinct is to jerk away, making Blaine's lips skim dry across his cheek instead, and lean back to put some distance between them, hands on Blaine's shoulders to keep him from pursuing.

Blaine freezes, and Kurt's heart plummets. It wasn't out of shock that he pulled away, it was that _stupid _rule he'd put into place. Because kissing is still overwhelming for Kurt, sometimes - even after everything they've done to and for and with each other, it's still a lot. It's emotional in a way a lot of other things they do aren't. It's a _connection, _for lack of a better word, one that he's scared to make again. Maybe he should have told Blaine that, established that boundary from the very beginning, but it's too late now.

"Blaine -"

"This really doesn't mean anything to you, does it?"

"I -" Kurt chokes. He doesn't have the words to explain, most of the blood that should be in his head is still much lower and he's barely managed to figure it all out himself, anyway. But Blaine takes it as a confirmation before Kurt can say anything. Blaine lets out a frustrated huff and climbs off Kurt's lap, grabbing his clothes from where they had been discarded. "Blaine, wait -"

"Can't you see how screwed up this is?" Blaine shoots Kurt a glare that makes him shrink back. He pulls on his pants, face etched into a scowl. "I'm not going to let you do this to me again! If you want me - and I mean _all of me, _not just treating me like some fucking _sex toy_ - then fine. If you don't want me, _fine._ But you can't just act like you love me and then push me away as soon as I get close!"

It's almost too big an outburst for this one incident. How long has he been keeping it in and why did it take Kurt until now to see his frustration? Weirdly enough, he's almost proud of Blaine for standing up for himself, or he would be if the sick feeling in his gut would let him feel anything else. "That's not - _Blaine -_"

It's too late. Blaine doesn't look at him again before he leaves, slamming the door behind him and making Kurt jump even though he was expecting it. Then silence. Kurt dimly realizes he's shaking a little, staring at the bedroom door with eyes starting to prickle with unshed tears. All this time, he knew it would come to this, but he let it happen anyway. _Fuck. _He's never felt more disgusted with himself.

On trembling legs, any arousal he might have had before departed, Kurt pulls on his clothes and leaves the bedroom, wandering into the living room feeling lost and out of place. He sees Blaine immediately, out on the balcony, leaning on the railing and staring out at the city around them. Kurt doesn't like going out there, hates Blaine being out there even more - it reminds him too much of his dreams, his nightmares, which he's had more and more frequently in the past weeks. He pushes those thoughts away and steps out, closing the sliding door behind him. He starts shivering the instant he steps out into the cold December air. A few flurries drift around them, but nothing substantial.

"It's cold," he says quietly, feeling like an idiot because obviously Blaine knows that. Blaine shrugs. "Come back inside." Kurt pleads. Blaine shakes his head.

Blaine's hands are clenched into fists, so hard his knuckles are turning white. His fingernails dig into his palms, and Kurt's stomach clenches as he sees tiny drops of blood there. "Blaine, your hands," he says, stepping closer and taking one of Blaine's fists in his hands. They're so tense he can't even relax them. Blaine looks down, eyes widening a little.

"Sorry. Nervous habit." Blaine mumbles, and Kurt isn't sure why he's apologizing. At least it's better than intentionally hurting himself - not much, but still. He cradles Blaine's hand like it's a bird with a broken wing, gently massaging the tensed muscles until they start to relax. His fingernails leave little red crescents in their wake.

Blaine doesn't look at Kurt as they stand there, just lets Kurt stroke and rub the tendons of his hands until they're pliant and warm. His brow is still furrowed, staring at their joined hands like they hold some secret. Kurt holds on tight as he whispers, "I am so, _so_ sorry." Blaine's breath hitches. He looks away and doesn't reply. "On a scale of one to ten, how mad at me are you?"

"I'm not -"

"You are and it's okay. I just need to know how much I fucked up."

"…Eight? Nine?"

"Wow. Okay. If you're going to hit me avoid my nose." It's meant as a joke but Kurt feels sick just saying it.

Blaine jerks his hands away, snapping in a voice that almost sounds panicked, "_Don't."_

"It was just a joke."

"I know. Just - _don't._" His voice breaks on the last word.

Kurt stares at him and wonders, helplessly, what to do. "Please come inside?"

This time Blaine nods, following Kurt into the warm apartment. Kurt sits down on the couch, gesturing for Blaine to sit too. He does, as far from Kurt as possible, though that isn't saying much with such a small couch. Swallowing back the lump in his dry, scratchy throat, Kurt tries to figure out what he can possible say.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he begins, trying to meet Blaine's eyes and show him how much he _means _it. It's terrifying, being honest, but Blaine _deserves _honesty so he pushes through the fear and keeps going. "And it wasn't about using you. I know that's sort of how it ended up, but that's not… I didn't _mean_ to."

"I gave you so much time." Blaine's voice is barely above a whisper. "We could have talked about this _any time _and you just -"

"I know." Kurt tries his best not to start crying already. It won't help anything. "I know, I know, I'm _sorry. _I was… scared. I still am."

"Of?"

"It's going to sound so stupid, it _was _stupid, but - I don't know. It felt like acknowledging what we were doing would end it. And I just couldn't do that. I couldn't let you go again. I don't want it to be over."

"_Is_ it? Over, I mean?" His voice wavers. It's a little nice to know that Blaine is as reluctant to stop… _whatever _this is, as Kurt is.

Kurt shrugs. "It kind of has to be, doesn't it? I don't - I know this is hypocritical of me, but I don't think we can be anything more than friends until we figure this out. Figure out what's going on with us. I should have drawn that line ages ago."

"That makes sense." The silence stretches on for a time, and outside, the world starts to grow dark. In the light of the sunset, Kurt can't keep his eyes off Blaine. "What we had was really amazing, wasn't it?" Blaine says quietly.

"What, friends with benefits?"

"No, _before."_

"Oh." Kurt lets out a shaky breath and tries to smile. "Yeah, it was, it really was. Best years of my life. Even the bad ones."

"Have I ruined any chance of having that again?" He looks terrified even as he says it, but his voice doesn't waver, and he doesn't break eye contact - which is more than Kurt has been able to manage, when the subject comes up. When did Blaine become better at talking about his feelings than Kurt?

"…I thought we'd agreed that this was all my fault?" Kurt says it with a sorry attempt at laughter that just makes Blaine look even sadder.

"No, I mean - ugh. Never mind." Blaine looks away, the frustrated expression returning to his face. Kurt reaches across the distance between them - it feels like miles - and touches Blaine's hand. He startles, but doesn't pull away.

"I get it. I… I'm just scared, I guess. And still angry."

"What about?"

Kurt shrugs. "Everything."

Blaine closes his eyes. "That's what this is about, then."

"Yet another thing we don't talk about."

"I don't want you to be afraid of me." Blaine shakes his head. "But I guess you have every reason to be."

"Sometimes I think I'm just as scared of how much I can hurt you as you can hurt me," Kurt admits. Despite the lingering sick feeling in his stomach, it almost feels good to admit all of this. Like he's lifting all of his burdens off his shoulders. It's not that simple, of course, but he's starting to see why Blaine looks forward to his weekly meetings with Naomi now.

"I am sorry, you know." Blaine blurts out. "And I'm not just saying that. I'm _sorry._ For the drinking. For taking Amelia. For hitting you. It was so wrong and that's not the person I want to be. That wasn't _me._ Even if you can't forgive me for it, please believe me." It all comes out in a jumbled rush of words, and Blaine looks breathless by the end. He looks straight into Kurt's eyes, silently pleading for him to understand, and Kurt feels ground has fallen out from under him. "Please."

…_Wow, _Kurt thinks. Even his inner voice is wobbly, just like the rest of him. A real apology this time, and it's obvious how difficult it was for Blaine to say, how he had to force the words out after basically pretending it had never happened for so long, that Kurt can't tell if he's feeling pride or anger or something entirely different. His feelings about the whole mess have always been just that, a mess, and it's going to take a lifetime to sort through them all.

"I know," Kurt hears himself say. He grasps Blaine's hand in his, careful to avoid the fresh scratches in his palms, and tries his best to smile. It doesn't quite work, but it's the best he can do. "I know."

Blaine returns the smile, but it only lasts a moment. "But you can't forgive me." His thumb absently strokes across Kurt's knuckles as he talks, without anger - maybe a little disappointment but ultimately unsurprised. Mostly he sounds resigned.

Kurt doesn't have a response to that, because he simply doesn't know the answer. "Why did you do it?" He asks softly. "That's the one thing I've never understood. The rest, I… I get it, kind of. But you don't hit people. I don't understand."

Blaine stiffens up beside him, and Kurt immediately wants to backtrack. As far as he knows - and he's heard more of the conversations than he wants to admit - Blaine hasn't even been able to speak to Naomi, a neutral party, about this. It's not fair, putting him on the spot. But before he can tell Blaine that it's all right not to answer, he speaks.

"I don't know." He avoids Kurt's eyes. "I - I feel like anything I say will be - making excuses. That fight was… it was one of most _awful _nights of my life. Worse than when Dad disowned me. Worse than when Cooper left. And everything you said - you just know me way too well. You know exactly how to hurt me, and - and I just needed to make you stop. Because it was like you were actually stabbing me in the heart."

A lump rises in Kurt's throat. He doesn't remember most of what he said that night, but he knows that it was meant to hurt - because he's good at that. He can to dig in deep and _cut _people with nothing but words. Maybe not as well as Santana - he still shudders to think of some of the insults she pulls out of thin air - but in highschool, he prided himself on it. He wasn't strong or popular; words were his only weapon. Now he can feel only guilt and hatred for that aspect of himself, the part of him that, deep down, wanted to make Blaine feel as awful as he did. Maybe he understands the mindset Blaine was in on that horrible night better than he thought.

"I was drunk, so I couldn't exactly... _control _myself." Blaine goes on. "Obviously that was _not _the solution, but I wasn't _thinking _about it, I just… I needed to make it stop. I needed everything to stop." Blaine closes his eyes tight, breathing shallowly, like it was a physical effort just to _remember _all of it, let alone hash out every detail.

"You broke my heart." Kurt whispers, gaining no satisfaction from the way Blaine flinches. It's said without any blame, just a simple fact. The sky is blue. The ocean is wet. Blaine broke his heart into a thousand pieces. He's also the only who could collect every one of those pieces in his tender hands, hands that were never meant to hurt anyone, and put it back together again, if he only had the patience. "Blaine," he begins, trailing off when he realizes that he has nothing more to say and leaving the name to sit on his tongue, bittersweet.

"But it doesn't make any difference, does it?" Blaine draws his hand away, and Kurt absently flexes his fingers, already feeling colder for the lack of contact. "Saying sorry. It doesn't change anything. I still hurt you, I still can't forgive _myself._ I have worked so hard to convince myself that - that it would be better this way, for us to be apart. I might have even come to terms with that someday. But you..." Blaine stands up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "I should go to bed, or… something." He mumbles, though Kurt's watch only reads 7:30.

Kurt's hand shoots out before Blaine can leave, fingers wrapping around Blaine's wrist. "Blaine, wait." The scars crisscrossing his wrists are strange under Kurt's fingertips, paper-thin skin stretched over fragile bones. Blaine stops, looking back at Kurt with something painfully akin to _hope. _Kurt just hopes he isn't about to crush it.

"It's not about not wanting this. About not wanting _you._" Kurt hesitates, sucking in a deep breath, fighting back the panic rising in him. He has to make this clear, now or never - he won't get another chance. _Here goes everything. _"I do. Want it. Whatever this is, whatever we are - I want _you._" It's not 'I love you', not quite, but it's enough to make Blaine stare at him, eyes bright and shining and wet, mouth half-open. "What that _means_, I'm not sure yet, but - yeah."

Blaine swallows. "I'm still not sure what you're saying." His voice trembles.

"I'm saying that I'm sorry too, and know I've been selfish, and I know that how I've treated you is the furthest thing from okay. I'm trying to work through it, all of it, all my stupid issues. It's just taking a long time, and that's not fair to you, and I'm so sorry. We've both hurt each other in so many ways, Blaine, and I just…"

"Don't know how to go back to how things were." Kurt nods, letting his hand fall. There isn't any more to say. Blaine sighs and his shoulders slump, looking more frustrated than ever. "I just wish I knew how to make this right."

All at once, Kurt's eyes start to burn, but he swallows back the onslaught of tears. It doesn't matter what part of it all Blaine is talking about - everything is wrong. It's pointless to keep pretending it's right. "Me too," he says sadly. "But you know I'm really trying, right? To figure this out. I just need time. If you can be patient with me…"

It's not enough. Kurt can tell by the look in Blaine's eyes, the way they seem to dim. A distant 'maybe' isn't enough of a promise and Kurt doesn't blame him for that at all. But after a while, Blaine nods, though he can't seem to make eye contact. "How will I know when you're ready?"

The short burst of laughter sounds foreign coming from Kurt's own lips. "Um… I'll be able to kiss you, if you aren't too sick of me by then. That's how you'll know."

"Okay." Blaine hesitates. "Can I… still sleep with you? Just sleeping," he adds quickly. "I think it helps."

"Of course. I'll try to keep my hands off you this time." It's supposed to be funny, but Blaine can't seem to manage more than the tiniest smile. "Thank you for understanding. And for talking to me. I'm sorry I took so long to get over myself, but… better late than never, right?"

"Sure." Blaine says - quiet, subdued. All at once, the openness they had just moments before is gone, and Blaine is withdrawn again, a mystery. Kurt doesn't like it, but he doesn't know what to do but offer a smile.

It was a good thing, talking about all of it, painful as it was. Kurt, at least, feels a weight lifted from his shoulders. But Blaine looks like his burden just got a hundred times heavier even though apologizing must have felt good, and as Kurt watches Blaine walk down the hall toward the bedroom, claiming to be tired, he wonders if they've really made progress at all.

* * *

><p>"How do you feel today, Blaine?"<p>

Blaine doesn't reply, barely even hears her. He stares own at his hands, where there are four faint crescent scratches on each palm. They would be scabs by now but he keeps picking them off despite Kurt's chastising. He doesn't know when that habit started, digging his nails into his skin until he bleeds - he didn't fully notice it until Kurt did - and he wonders if it counts as self-harm. He should ask Naomi, she would know. He probably won't.

They don't hurt anymore, the scratches, but they itch. The sharp, brief pain had only quelled it for a moment. All of him itches, his palms and fragile wrists and fingertips, begging him to keep scratching - as if if he can pick away at the scars and make himself bleed again, he'll finally be okay. It's not right. He knows that. But that doesn't stop him from wanting to dig at his own skin with his fingernails until they come away red-stained.

It's stupid, so utterly _stupid. _He'd apologized and meant it with all his heart, finally finding the words he needed to say sorry for all the wrong he had done after all these years. He and Kurt have made _some _sort of progress - at least he has a chance where he didn't before, to put things back together. He should be ecstatic, but it doesn't feel like enough. Instead, he's miserable in a way he hasn't been since Kurt brought him here, miserable enough that hurting himself would feel a hundred times better.

Knowing that he _should _be happy but very much isn't makes it even worse.

"Blaine?" Naomi's voice breaks through, making Blaine blink and shake his head in a futile attempt to clear it. She sounds worried, and though in all appearances she's keeping up her façade of neutrality, he can see a flicker of pain in her eyes. She's so _young, _and clearly cares so much - he doesn't know how she manages it, this job.

Blaine closes his eyes, and croaks out, "I've been better."


	18. Pockets Full Of Stones

**Warnings: Self-harm and suicidal thoughts.** This is about as bad as it gets, but it was important to write. Please keep in mind that I, personally, have never struggled with depression or had suicidal tendencies, so if there are any inaccuracies here or anywhere else in the story, that's why. I only know what my friends have told me about their experiences with depression and self-harm. Bear with me.

Don't worry, boys, I'll stop torturing you so much after this I swear ;_;

* * *

><p><em>The wind is whipping around them harder than ever, like it wants to blow Kurt away. It buffets him from side to side and stings his eyes but he stays rooted to the floor, bound by invisible chains.<em>

"_Please!" He screams until his throat is raw. "Please, no, god, _please -"

_Blaine is crying. In every other dream, Blaine has shown no emotion, not in his voice or his face or his mannerisms. In every other dream, Blaine is a blank slate, an empty shell, cold dead eyes staring into Kurt and seeing nothing. In this dream, there is a steady stream of tears trickling down his cheeks, and his chest heaves with sobs as he balances on the rail._

"_I'm sorry," Blaine whispers._

"_Blaine!"_

_Blaine closes his eyes. His lashes are wet and clumpy with tears, and the sky behind him is dark and thick with fast-moving clouds. They look ready to swallow him whole._

"_I'm so sorry."_

"No!"

_In this dream, he's too late._

_Blaine tips back and falls._

_In every other dream, Kurt would wake up at this point. In this dream, whatever binds him is suddenly torn away, and he can _run, _race across the balcony that seems to go on for miles and crash into the railing. He grips it tight as if afraid he'll be torn away too._

_In this dream, he leans over the rail, helpless, and watches Blaine fall._

* * *

><p>After a week of the dreams getting quickly, steadily worse, Kurt hasn't slept through the night once, and every night he wakes up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating, trying to hard not to <em>scream. <em>Blaine will be there, sleeping curled up next to him and probably hogging all the blankets, the jerk. Kurt will risk a touch, just long enough to prove that he's there and alive.

But it's been a week and Kurt feels stretched thin. There's nothing to _do, _he can't stop himself from dreaming, but if he could… he would give up a lifetime of good dreams to stop seeing this, to erase the image of Blaine falling, falling, _falling _from his mind.

His exhaustion shows at work, too, not one decent design in a week and all of his co-workers are staring at him like he's suddenly crippled. Today he nearly falls asleep at his desk twice before Miranda, the pretty young secretary with an impeccable taste in scarves, lays a gentle hand on his shoulder and asks if he wants a double shot of espresso in his coffee when she goes out for the midday coffee run.

The coffee barely starts to wake him up when his phone rings, Blaine's number flashing on the screen, and Kurt's stomach plummets. Blaine never calls him. They have each other's numbers in case of emergency but Blaine _never _uses his phone, not to call Kurt. Something is _wrong, _horribly _wrong, _Amelia is hurt or Blaine is in trouble or -

His hands fumble with the phone, nearly dropping it and hanging up before he manages to answer it and lift the phone to his ear. "Blaine?" He says, panic already creeping its way into his voice. He tries to tell himself that Blaine must need him to pick something up from the store or wants to know if he should order takeout for dinner, maybe it isn't anything too awful…

The line crackles, and through it Kurt hears the sound of quiet sobbing. He starts packing up his things without even realizing he's doing it. "Blaine, talk to me, what happened?"

"I - I'm sorry. I shouldn't be bothering you at work…"

"Don't worry about that, tell me what happened!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"Blaine!" He snaps, but only because he's terrified. Blaine sobs. "Did you take something? What did you do?"

"N-no. No. I didn't t-t-take anything. But." His breath shudders, deafening in Kurt's ear. "I need you to stop me."

_Oh god oh god oh god. _Kurt scrambles, crumpling the pages of his sketchbook as he shoves it into his bag, hoisting it over his shoulder as he sprints toward the exit. He covers the speaker on the phone as he calls out to a confused Miranda and the frightened interns, "It's my husband, I'm sorry, I have to go" before shoving the door open and rushing to the elevator. "Blaine, don't do anything, okay?" He says firmly, trying to stop his voice from shaking. It doesn't work. "Just - stay right where you are, don't move, I'm on my way, okay? Are you safe?" _Please don't be on the balcony, please don't, please…_

"I don't know." Blaine gasps out. "I - I can't, I can't…"

"You're going to be okay, I promise, just don't do anything, _please._"

"Just come home, please come home."

"I'm on my way. Keep talking to me, okay? Tell me what's happening." Adrenaline keeps him going as he runs through the maze of a parking garage, finds his car, shoves everything into the passenger's seat and fumbles with the keys. After a few tries the engine roars to life.

"…Are you driving?"

"Yes, I'm coming home, it'll only be a few minutes I swear -"

"Don't drive and talk to me at the same time, what fucking good will it do if you get in a wreck -"

"I'm not hanging up this phone, I'll be _fine._"

"I'm hanging up."

"Blaine, don't you _dare, _I need to you keep talking, please -"

It's too late, the line goes dead. Kurt growls in frustration and tosses the phone off to the side. He would call back, but he knows that Blaine won't answer and it'll just waste precious time. Instead, he focuses on driving, ignoring the speed limits as much as he can, who cares about the law when Blaine _needs him? _

All he can think about are his dreams, and he's never been superstitious or believed that dreams mean something but it's too much to be a coincidence. And hasn't Blaine been distant, since their talk, since they decided to break things off? He's gone back to spending most of his time in his room, refusing to eat or go out or act like a functional human being more than necessary. Exactly like when he first came to stay with Kurt. Why hadn't Kurt tried to talk to him? Why hadn't he _noticed?_

_All my fault. This is my fault. _His mind is bombarded by images of Blaine falling, Blaine lying on the floor with an empty bottle of painkillers lying next to him, Blaine with his wrists torn and shredded, oh god Kurt is going to be _sick -_

Panicking isn't going to help Blaine. It's that thought that calms him down. He has to be the strong one here even when everything is falling apart at the seams. Blaine _needs him, _Blaine asked for his help; that alone gives him hope. He has to be calm, and strong, and unbreakable, Blaine's port in the storm, like he's always tried to be.

The tires squeal as Kurt parks outside the apartment, barely slowing down, and he somehow manages to remember to lock the doors before rushing inside. He ignores the doorman and makes a beeline for the elevator, but almost wishes that he had taken the stairs, the elevator seems so _slow. _But then before he knows it he's at the third floor, and then unlocking the door to the tiny apartment, and then he's inside.

Blaine isn't at the balcony, that's the first thing he notices, and he's not sure if he should be relieved, or if Blaine's broken body is waiting at the bottom. He doesn't dare look, just heads straight for the bedrooms - the doors are open, no one inside - and then last, the bathroom.

Blaine is curled up in the corner, wedged between the medicine cabinet and the bathtub, and when Kurt pushes the door open, his head shoots up, staring at Kurt with wide eyes like he hadn't expected to see him. In his right hand he holds a razorblade, where he got it Kurt has no idea, he thought he'd hidden anything Blaine with which could hurt himself. His left hand is clenched tight, knuckles white from pain, and a steady trickle of blood runs from the two cuts across his wrists. It drips onto the floor and stains the white tiles, Blaine's clothes, his skin.

Kurt wants to vomit. He wants to scream and cry and run away and puke. He doesn't do any of those things, adrenaline still keeping him bizarrely calm on the outside. He snatches the bloodstained razor out of Blaine's limp fingers, tossing it in the trashcan. "Thought I'd gotten rid of all of those," he says, voice strained.

Blaine blinks, tears welling up and spilling over to join the stains already streaking his cheeks. "I tried to stop," he rasps. "I tried. I swear I tried, Kurt, I'm sorry -"

"Shh." Kurt kneels down next to him, cupping his cheek in his hand and thumbing away a stray tear as it falls. "Shh, it's okay, you're going to be okay." He can't tell if he's lying or not. There's every chance that Blaine will never be okay again and there's nothing Kurt can do. "You didn't take anything?" He asks frantically. "This is all you did?" Blaine nods. "Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay. Okay." Blaine isn't going to die. He's the furthest thing from okay but he isn't going to die, not if Kurt can stop the bleeding. He grabs a clean washcloth and wets it before sitting down in front of Blaine again, cleaning away as much of the blood as gently as he can. There's just so _much, _so bright red and horrible, but he's not going to die, Kurt won't _let _him.

Medicine cabinet. Peroxide, first aid kit, bandages. Specific steps he can focus on. He holds Blaine's arm over the bathtub, uncapping the bottle of peroxide to clean out the cuts. They aren't deep, he can see once all the blood is washed away by the bubbly liquid, but the skin there is so fragile, so many veins, so many places to bleed from.

"You don't have to -" Blaine begins.

"Yes I do. Just - just let me take care of you. Please." Blaine stares at him for a moment and then nods, no longer resisting as Kurt cleans the cuts. His hands are gentle, tender, careful not to add to the hurt. He moves on autopilot so he doesn't have to think, the only thoughts in his mind _heal, nurture, protect._

He gets out the never-before-used roll of gauze bandages and tape, and cradles Blaine's bleeding arm in his lap. He doubts that Blaine ever did this, bothered to patch himself up when he cut before - stark white bandages would only make it all more obvious. But Kurt can't let him go without doing something, so as gently as he can, he wraps the gauze around Blaine's bleeding wrists, unsure of how much to use so erring of the side of caution and using a bit too much. Blaine slumps back against the wall as Kurt works, eyes closed, world-weary and drained, no fight left, bled away with the rest of him.

"Why do you cut?" Kurt asks softly, watching as Blaine blinks up at him. He's not sure if keeping Blaine talking is the best thing or not, he doesn't know _anything, _but it's all he can think of to do. _Don't let him close up, not again. Don't lose him_.

Blaine hesitates. "I know it's stupid -"

"No, it's not stupid - I've just never really understood it. Wanting to die, I - I wish I didn't understand, but I do. But when I wanted to end it, I was looking for the most painless way possible. I don't understand why you want to make it hurt more."

Blaine shakes his head, breaking eye contact to stare at his own hand, at Kurt's long, deft fingers as they work. "I… don't know how to explain it, really," he says. "It made it better for a while. Or I thought it did, I don't know. It's not the same now. It was like… like a release, I guess - it was pain that I could _control. _Because I hurt inside, every single day, and cutting was like… letting that out. Does that make sense?"

"Sort of." It's one of those things that Kurt won't ever completely understand. He tapes the bandages together, making sure it's not too tight but still enough to hold, and then he just holds Blaine's hand in his lap as he listens to Blaine talk.

"It's not the same anymore, it doesn't feel good. Just hurts." Blaine's breath turns shaky, eyes big and watery and red-rimmed. "I thought… I really thought I was getting better. I tried so hard not to let it take over again, but I can't, I'm not strong enough for this." His chin trembles again, threatening more tears.

"You are doing better, you _are, _this is just - a bump in the road. You'll get through it, _we _will and you'll be stronger for it. Right?" His grip on Blaine's hand tightens. He says it like it a promise, though he knows that there is no way he can promise this.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why should I bother? I'm so _useless, _I'm _pathetic - _you can't even leave the fucking house without worrying that I'm going to do something stupid_. _And I couldn't even _finish _it, I called you anyway even though I told myself I wouldn't - _fuck, _I'm a coward, too." He groans, curling up tighter into a little ball on the floor.

"_No._" Kurt reaches out, hooking his fingers under Blaine's chin and lifting it to make him look into Kurt's eyes. He's not going to let Blaine close himself off like this, not again. "Don't _say_ that. You're not a coward. You remember how hard it was when you started talking to Naomi? Admitting that you needed help? It is hard, to say that you need someone, isn't it? Calling me wasn't cowardly, Blaine. That was the bravest thing you could do." He makes himself smile, hoping it looks reassuring. "I'm so proud of you."

Blaine watches him, scrutinizing his face for any sort of lie and finding none. His breath shudders out of him in one big gust, lips pressed together as if to seal away more tears. "What's the point of me?" He whispers. "Why shouldn't I just end it?"

Kurt spends a long time thinking on it. He could answer flippantly. With most people, Kurt is ashamed to admit, he would probably pass the question off as melodramatic, looking for attention. And maybe it is. But he knows Blaine, well enough to know that this is a real question, and it deserves a real answer. All the while Blaine watches him, just waiting.

"You're an amazing father," Kurt says softly. Blaine scoffs, glancing away. "You're the - the most incredible man I've ever known - you're the best thing that ever happened to me and you're such a good person and you're stronger than this and - and Blaine, I don't _want_ you to die." He cups Blaine's cheek in his palm and lets Blaine lean into the touch, eyes closed, trembling underneath Kurt's fingers. Their grip on each other's hands turns painful, but Kurt doesn't pull away. "Please," he says, not even embarrassed at how scared he sounds. He can't _help_ it. This is so much scarier than seeing Blaine in the hospital, even if he was closer to death then than he is now. That was sterile, clean and clinical. In his head he knew what had happened, could see the scars to show for it, long and straight up and down Blaine's arm. But he couldn't connect it to this; to shaking fingers gripping razorblades and slicing open skin, and blood, so much _blood. _It hadn't hit him then, not really, how close he was to losing Blaine_._

Blaine is beautiful-precious-broken, guilty of terrible things but underneath it all so _good, _and if he can't make it through, then what chance does Kurt have? What chance does _anyone _have when someone like Blaine is on the edge of shattering to pieces?

"I don't think I want to die," Blaine says, interrupting Kurt's thoughts. "Not really, because I know dying won't make anything better, but - I just want it all to _stop._ Just for a second, I just need it to stop, and cutting used to do that for me but - but not anymore."

"Then what does help? Something not destructive. Something that isn't hurting yourself."

"You," Blaine says. His eyes widen and his face turns bright red.

"…me?" Kurt's voice sounds strange in his own ears, too high-pitched. Blaine hesitates, then turns his head to the side, eyes still closed, and presses the lightest of kisses to Kurt's palm. He stays there even after, holding Kurt's hand to his cheek, breath warm against Kurt's skin.

_Oh, _Kurt thinks. He should be panicking but he just feels oddly serene. He lifts Blaine's hand, careful of the fresh bandage, and kisses the tip of each finger, and then one more to the center of his palm. He wants to say, "I love you." If almost losing Blaine _again _has proven anything, it's that Kurt does love him, deep down. He wants to whisper it into Blaine's skin, imbed it there and make him believe it. Wants to kiss away his tears.

He's not ready. Someday. Soon, if he can find the courage.

"You make me want to find a reason to stay," Blaine whispers, lips moving against Kurt's skin. Kurt's breath hitches. "I'm just… so _tired_."

"I know." He strokes Blaine's cheek with his thumb, back and forth. His cheeks are damp and streaked with salty tears. _Protect, _Kurt's instincts scream. _Protect, protect, protect. _"Come on, let's get up, we don't want to be in here." The tiny room is suffocating him.

Blaine stays close as they walk down the hall toward the guest room. He lets Kurt guide him, rest a hand on the small of his back. He's not an invalid or a child but Kurt needs this, too, to take care of him, and he thinks that Blaine can see that. _Heal. Nurture. Protect. _They're his deepest instincts, and Blaine brings out all of them. It's the only way he can deal with this.

Blaine sits down on the edge of the bed, trembling slightly, avoiding Kurt's eyes. Kurt wonders what to do now. "What do you need from me?" He asks softly.

"Just…" Blaine hesitates. "I don't know. I just don't know. I didn't want you to see me like this." He looks terrified, and it makes Kurt's heart clench. "You can go back to work, if you want, I'll be fine -"

"I'm staying." Kurt says, too firmly to allow for argument. He sits beside Blaine, shoulder to shoulder, the bed bouncing a little under the added weight. That's why he's here. That's why he _exists_, to hold Blaine up when he's about to fall. "I'm staying right here for as long as you need me and you don't get to apologize for it."

"I'll always need you." It's barely even a whisper, but Kurt hears it. He wraps an arm around Blaine's shoulders, pulling him in close, and to his surprise Blaine only stiffens up for a moment before curls up into Kurt's side. It has to be a good sign, right? That Blaine asked for his help, that he's accepting comfort. Kurt has to believe that this is a good sign.

"I'll always be here," he murmurs.

After a while, Blaine's breathing steadies out, his body relaxing against Kurt's. Kurt glances over to see the worry lines of his face smoothed out, only at peace while sleeping. He takes a moment to just look, his throat tightening at the sight. He's perfect when he sleeps, all his burdens finally taken away.

Kurt gently lays him down on his side, careful of his bandaged arm, tugging the covers up to his chin. Blaine mumbles something but doesn't wake up, snuggling deeper under the covers. After a few moments of watching him, Kurt leans down and brushes his hair away from his eyes, presses a kiss to his brow, and thinks, _please be okay._

He needs to keep moving. Keep working and taking care of things. He calls Rachel first, begging her to pick Amelia up from school. "It's Blaine, I - I can't leave him," he explains, his voice still rough from tears he refuses to shed. She agrees immediately, and he's so grateful he could kiss her when she doesn't ask why he can't leave Blaine alone.

The next call is for work, apologizing for running out without warning, tells them he'll just have to wait and see if he can make it in in the morning. Last, he calls Naomi, schedules a last-minute appointment for early in the morning. There's only so much he can do, that he can understand - he needs her help as much as Blaine does. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, he can't stop shaking, feeling like he might be sick any moment.

_Don't think about it, _he tells himself. _Keep moving. _He whips up the fasted dinner he can think of that Amelia will actually eat, letting it simmer on the stove while he waits for her to get home. Blaine sleeps on, and Kurt spends the next hour in the bathroom, scrubbing the bloodstain off the floor. No matter how much bleach he uses, no matter how long he spends cleaning, he thinks he'll always be able to see it, dark red against white.

* * *

><p>Blaine's eyes flutter open and stare straight into Amelia's, huge hazel eyes that look just like his. She's kneeling by the bed, chin propped on her hands and her elbows propped on the mattress, staring at him intently.<p>

"Hi, baby," he mumbles, wincing at how throaty his voice is. He sits up a little, rubbing at his crusty eyes. Kurt isn't there anymore; he must have slipped out while Blaine slept. He has the distinct feeling of being woken from a dream, but it's already fading. Something about drowning, maybe. He should have tried drowning, it's always sounded kind of romantic.

"Daddy says dinner is ready," Amelia says. "Are you sick, Papa? Is that why you're sleeping?"

"Sort of. No. I don't know." His wrist aches, his head aches, everything in him aches. The cuts are barely more than skin deep, but they feel worse. He can't figure out what he's more ashamed of - that he tried, _again, _or that he called for help. Again. _I'm so proud of you, _Kurt had said, which doesn't make _sense, _what is there for him to be proud of? Kurt says he's brave, but he feels anything but. If he were brave, he wouldn't be looking for a way out.

"Papa?" He blinks. Amelia is still watching him, brow furrowed. "Are you gonna eat dinner? It's spaghetti night! Maybe we can have ice cream if we eat all our food!"

"I'm not really hungry," he says apologetically. "But you go earn that ice cream. Maybe I'll come get leftovers later." He won't, but maybe it'll placate her. She worries more than Kurt does. His heart skips a beat at the thought of Kurt, Kurt who was so gentle as he wrapped up Blaine's arm, Kurt who saw him at his most vulnerable. Kurt who genuinely thinks that Blaine is _brave._

It's immediately clear that this isn't the answer Amelia wants. She frowns and looks down at the floor. After a moment she asks, so quietly Blaine almost doesn't hear her, "Do you still love me, Papa?

Blaine's breath catches in his chest, and he sits up straight. "_What? _Of course I love you! Come up here." Amelia climbs up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in front of him, still avoiding his eyes. "Baby, why would you ask something like that?"

"Because…" She sniffles. "B-because you're always sad, and you never want to play with me or read books with me or do my homework with me anymore. And when I want to play with you, you always say maybe later. And D-d-daddy says it's not my fault but you're _always sad, _Papa." She rubs her eyes, looking almost angry at the tears pooling there. Amelia throws fits and tantrums over the tiniest things, but she doesn't get upset over things that _matter. _Not until now.

_You were hurting her too and you never even noticed. _He feels sick. "Look at me," he says softly. She does. "Of course I love you. Nothing will _ever _make me stop loving you, Amelia, don't ever think that, okay? I love you so much."

She nods, her bottom lip still trembling. "But you keep going away." He must look confused, because she clarifies. "When you're sad. You go away, and you leave me and Daddy behind and I hate it, Papa. Please stop being sad."

Blaine swallows. He'd never really thought of it that way, in the strange yet simple terms that only a child could understand. He supposes that he does disappear in a way, lost in his own thoughts and his own self-hatred, and this week it's been worse. "It's… it's really complicated. I can't help it. And I know I've been no fun lately, and I'm really sorry, but I'm trying to do better." It's a lie, and he knows it, wasn't this afternoon all about giving up on getting better? "I'm so sorry."

"I just want you to be happy again," Amelia whispers.

"Oh, honey…" She's wrapped up in his arms before he can even think about it; he clutches her tight to his chest and presses his cheek to her tangled mass of hair, hands broad and spread out across her back. Her arms wrap around his chest, only just meeting on the other side.

_I want to be happy too,_ he thinks. _I just don't know how._

He'd wanted to die. For so long, all of it building up until he couldn't bear it anymore, he'd wanted to _die, _so why does it only hit him just now that dying means leaving her? It means leaving Kurt, and everyone who should have loved him but left anyway, and _her. _He'd _known _it but he hadn't thought about it, thinking about it hurt too much.

_How could I want to leave you? _He blinks back burning tears of shame as she snuggles into him. It's been a week since he's held her like this, and he hadn't even noticed that he was distancing himself from her as well as Kurt. _How could I leave you, my baby, my angel, my perfect thing…? _For so long, she's been the only thing he has. How could he let his stupid depression overpower _that?_

Never again.

"I'm sorry," he chokes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _so sorry. _You didn't sign up for this, you deserve have a better papa than me." He kisses the top of her head, drawing in a deep breath. "It's not going to get this bad again, okay? I promise. I won't let it, I _won't. _I'm not going to let it control me anymore." He isn't even talking to Amelia anymore, not really, it's like he's challenging _himself. _

A part of him recoils. That horrible part that constantly pleads for him to just _end _it all. It hasn't stopped, in the weeks and months since he came to stay with Kurt, since he started therapy, since he started feeling like he could almost be happy again - this was still bubbling under the surface, gathering strength and waiting to strike when he was weakest. Now he's _angry, _angry at everything that brought him to this point, but most especially at himself, for being so pathetic. But it's anger that makes him stronger, makes him able to say _no. You're stronger than this, _whispers Kurt's voice in his head. He's starting to believe it.

The cuts on his wrists still throb, and he likes it. It reminds him of what he did and what he will _never _do again.

_I couldn't do this for myself. I couldn't do it for Kurt._

_But I'll do it for her._

_Never again._

"I love you, Papa," she mumbles into his shirt.

"I love _you."_

"Can I help?" She peeks up at him. "Can I make you happy?"

"You _do_ make me happy." He makes himself smile. It isn't a lie. Happiness is hard to find, but she brings it out. And Kurt, in his own way, even when he bring just as much sadness. His family makes him as happy as he knows how to be. "If I… go away again, if I start to be sad, you tell me, okay? Don't let me do that anymore. I'm not a very good papa when I do that, am I?"

"You're still the best," she insists.

"Still. Promise?"

"Pinky promise." She unhooks her arms to offer her pinky, and he hooks his around it. Her grin is like the first ray of sunlight after a long winter, and it spreads to him, the first smile he hasn't had to force in a long, long time.

Her arms go back around him, and she sighs happily.

* * *

><p>Amelia doesn't come back out for dinner and Kurt eats alone. When the sun starts to dip below the skyline, he puts the leftover pasta in the refrigerator, and makes the trek down the hall, to Blaine's room.<p>

He'd half-expected Blaine to still be asleep, but his eyes are open when Kurt peeks inside. He's leaning back against the headboard, and staring down at Amelia, curled up on his lap with her head pillowed on his chest, sound asleep.

Kurt knocks softly, and Blaine glances up. "Do you want me to put her to bed?" He whispers. It's not quite what he means to ask. He wants to ask a hundred other things, like _are you okay? _(A stupid question, of course he's not) or _what happens now? _But none of them sound right.

"No." Blaine's voice is rough from sleep and crying. "No, she's fine, let's let her sleep."

"Okay." Kurt hesitates a moment before stepping into the room. Blaine scoots over a little, which Kurt takes as an indication to sit down. Amelia stirs but doesn't wake. "Um… how do you feel?" Kurt asks quietly.

"Tired. Weird. But… better." Blaine bites his lip. "I - I'm sorry. For earlier. That you had to see that."

"You don't have to apologize." Kurt looks away, fiddling absently with the edge of the blanket underneath him. "_I'm _sorry I haven't been able to do more. I know _I _felt better about everything, after the talk we had last week. I guess I didn't notice that you got worse."

Blaine sighs. "I know I _should _have gotten better. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Naomi says it's normal to have relapses."

"Doesn't make it feel any better. I shouldn't have let it go so far, it was so stupid of me. I knew it as soon as it happened, and I'm not going to do it again."

"Okay."

"I'm serious. I'm not going to let this control me anymore. Okay? I'm not going to hurt myself and I'm not going to let this get in the way of my life. I'm _done_." Blaine shifts, slowly so as not to wake Amelia, sitting straight up and looking right into Kurt's eyes. He sounds so sure, so convinced, that Kurt wants to believe it's true, but… "You don't believe me?"

"I believe that you'll try your best," Kurt says slowly. "But I also know that that isn't something you can promise, Blaine."

His frustration is obvious from the tightness of his jaw, the crease in his brow. "But it's like an addiction, right?" He gestures to his injured arm. Kurt can see a hint of dark red through the layers of gauze. "It's just like the drinking. I quit that. I can quit this too. I just didn't try hard enough last time. I'm… I'm not saying I can stop being depressed. I can't control that. But it's not going to be the way it has been." He glances down, brushing a long lock of Amelia's hair out of her face. She sleeps on, oblivious. "It's too hard on her."

Kurt takes a deep breath. "I moved your appointment with Naomi up to tomorrow morning."

Blaine cocks his head to the side. "Oh, okay… yeah, that's probably a good idea."

"And I want you to talk to her about medication."

Blaine's eyes widen, his expression going hard, and he seems to shrink in on himself. "How many times do we have to _talk _about this -"

"Blaine."

"I. Don't. Want. It."

"_Blaine._" There must be something about the tone of his voice that makes Blaine pause. He stops protesting, though he still looks at Kurt with mixture of disappointment and betrayal. "I don't like the idea either, okay, but I just don't think we have any more options."

"I can do this on my own." Blaine insists. "I know I can, just -"

"I know it has to be scary." Kurt reaches out without thinking, resting his hand on Blaine's knee. His thumb strokes over the fabric of his soft pajama pants, hoping that the touch will be soothing. _Protect, _he thinks_. _"I know. And I'm sorry. But getting a therapist was scary at first too, right? But that helped, and this will too. You can ask her as many questions as you need to, no matter how silly they might sound, and we can work together to figure out what will work best for you, but…" He pauses, swallowing back the lump in his throat. "But I can't watch you go through what happened today, not again. I _can't _watch you keep hurting yourself and I can't stand by and watch you be miserable and know I'm not able to help. I just can't do it anymore."

Blaine still doesn't respond, scowling and refusing to look at Kurt. "Do it for Amelia," Kurt pleads. It might be a low blow, but he doesn't even care at this point.

It works. Blaine's shoulders slump, and he bits his lip as he looks down at his daughter. It takes him a long time to answer. "W-will you talk to her with me?" He asks. God, but he looks absolutely _terrified, _his voice shaking every time he speaks_._ "I just - I don't think I'll know what kind of questions to ask and…"

"Of course I will, of course." He squeezes Blaine's knee gently, hoping that it's a comfort. "Whatever you need."

"Okay. Okay." Blaine takes a deep breath. "I'm really scared."

"Why?"

"I don't know, really, I just…" He shakes his head and quickly changes the subject. "Thank you. For coming home today. I don't… I don't know how far I would have gone, if you hadn't stopped me…"

"I'll always come when you call," Kurt insists. "Always, no matter what you need. Remember that."

"I think you saved my life."

It's a lot to take in, a lot to hear put into words. Kurt rubs away the tears prickling at his eyes. "I… wow." He lets out a quiet laugh.

They spend a while in silence, lost in thought. After a while, Blaine asks softly, "Am I really the best thing that ever happened to you?"

Oh, god, he'd really said that aloud, hadn't he? "Yes," he says, proud when his voice doesn't waver. That, he thinks, is how he knows it's the truth.

"Even after everything I did?"

"Even after that."

Blaine smiles, small but bright, real and unforced. "Come here."

Kurt goes without a second thought, joining Blaine as he shifts to lie down on the bed. It's a bit smaller than Kurt's is, and it forces them to touch - their feet tangle at the end of the bed, their hands brush, and when they're finally settled they're close enough that Kurt lets his forehead rest against Blaine's, their breath mingling between them. Amelia snuggles up close to both of them, sighing happily in her sleep. Kurt reaches out rest his hand on Blaine's shoulder. "I'm just so glad you're okay," he whispers. _I would do anything to make this okay._

Blaine covers Kurt's hand with his for a moment before it slides down, warm skin against skin, and he wraps his fingers gently around Kurt's wrist. The warm weight is a comfort, a reminder that Blaine is here and alive. Yes, Kurt is still scared. His fear that one day he'll come home to find Blaine dead or simply _gone _has only doubled. Still, he has faith that things can get better, now that Blaine has decided to let it.

"Okay is relative," Blaine points out after too long a pause, closing his eyes and shifting closer. "But thank you.

His eyes cross from how close they are, but he still watches Blaine's face for a little while, what he can see dimly lit room. There are dark circles under his eyes, and they're still swollen and red. But even though just a few hours ago he was a complete wreck, he already seems better. Or at least, determined to be. Who would have thought that such a relapse would lead to an even bigger breakthrough?

"Please never scare me like that again," Kurt says before he closes his eyes.

"Never." Blaine murmurs sleepily. "Never again."

This time, Kurt believes him.


	19. Tenderest Touch Leaves The Darkest Mark

**A/N: **Yay, Hudmels! And about as fluffy as I can get with this story... boy did I need it. It feels silly to post a chapter set at Christmas in May, but I got inspired for this particular chapter on christmas and it wouldn't leave me alone. Plus, I desperately wanted to write some Hudmels. 3

I'm planning on having this done by the end of May, so that I can focus on NaNoWriMo in June. Unless more inspiration strikes, I do believe I only have two, MAYBE three chapters left to write. I kinda burst into tears every time I think about it. But I do have follow-up oneshots planned out, so it's not totally over!

Hope you like the chapter!

* * *

><p>Christmas sneaks up on Kurt and suddenly they are swept up in shopping and cooking and decorating, a whirlwind of hyperactivity. Amelia loves Christmas, of course, but this is the first time she is truly <em>aware <em>of it, thinking about more than just the presents under the tree, although of course, she obsesses over them constantly. She helps Kurt decorate elaborate gingerbread men (the details on their outfits are the most important part) and cuts out sugar cookies, and decides that she is in charge of decorating - which essentially means that she bosses Blaine around and tells him where to hang decorations. They only got the tree set up a couple of days ago, small and a little scraggly with most of the ornaments close the bottom because Amelia wanted to decorate it herself, now that she's old enough to go near any of Kurt's mother's old collection of Christmas ornaments. He's caught her nibbling on the popcorn garlands more than once. It still brings a smile to Kurt's face when he looks at it - maybe it doesn't fit the aesthetic of the room, but it fits _them._

It's madness, yes, and the shopping is a little stressful, but god, Kurt loves it. He loves the way the living room is covered in green and red and white, loves thinking about the reaction Amelia is going to have to her presents, the way it all makes Blaine smile so much. But he notices that every time Amelia starts jabbering about how much fun it's going to be to have her grandparents and Uncle Finn stay for Christmas, Blaine's smile disappears.

Kurt is determined not to let any issue go undiscussed, not anymore. The next chance he gets to talk alone comes a few days before his family is due to come into town. They're hiding in Kurt's bedroom to wrap presents while Amelia works on her homework when he says, "Okay, what's upsetting you?"

"Nothing," Blaine answers too-quickly. His cheeks turn red and he focuses all his attention on the gift he's wrapping. Kurt gives him a _look _and Blaine sighs. "Okay, fine. I'm really nervous about seeing your parents."

Kurt sets down the roll of ribbon in his hand. "Why? They know you're going to be here. They know the… situation."

"They don't exactly have the best opinion of me, do they?"

It has occurred to Kurt that having everyone together might make things tense, especially with Finn. Though he hasn't dared to ask what they _really _think of Blaine, Burt and Carole at least have tact. They can act civil. Finn rarely even recognizes when he's being rude. He makes a mental note to have a talk with Finn before they arrive. "Don't be ridiculous," he says.

"Well, why wouldn't they?" Blaine's brow furrows as he continues to wrap the presents, but he's so distracted that he ends up shoving it aside in frustration. "I was supposed to be good to you, and take care of you, and I failed. And they haven't spoken to me since you and I broke up. It's just going to be really weird, that's all."

"Please don't talk like that." Kurt reaches out, putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "They don't hate you, okay? I promise they don't."

"If you think it would be better for me to disappear while they're here, give you a little time alone with them…"

"Blaine, I want you here." Kurt says firmly. "If they have a problem? They can deal with it, or talk to me about it, but it is _not your problem, _okay? I want you here, and Amelia wants Christmas with her whole family. I'm not going to send you away. Got it?"

"It would be nice not to spend Christmas alone." Blaine mumbles.

Kurt smiles, resisting the sudden urge to hold his hand or kiss his cheek. Being alone is hard for Blaine, Kurt knows. When he's left to his own devices, no one but himself and his self-deprecating thoughts… it's not pretty. And no one should be alone on Christmas. Kurt's family was Blaine's too, for a long time. They loved him like one of their own. That can't just _change. _Maybe, just maybe, this will go well. "I know. I'm going to start dinner - think you can keep Amelia out of here until you finish wrapping the presents?"

"Yes sir," Blaine says, lifting his hand in a mock salute. Kurt can't hide his grin as he leaves the room. A glance back shows Blaine going back to gift-wrapping with renewed vigor, the ribbons tying them all together more and more elaborate with every present. It's going to be adorable watching Amelia try to open those. Blaine is more animated than Kurt usually gets to see him, the anticipation of his favorite holiday finally infecting him with some small joy.

He deserves all the joy in the world.

* * *

><p>Burt, Carole and Finn arrive just as Kurt puts the ham in the oven, loud and boisterous with arms full of presents and a Tupperware container full of sugar cookies to add to the ones Amelia enthusiastically decorated the day before.<p>

Kurt throws himself at his dad first, arms around his neck and clinging to him. Time hasn't changed their relationship, and Burt is still the one strong, constant thing that Kurt can hold onto. It's always too long between visits, and this year has been particularly hard. Finally, he lets Burt go so that he can scoop a delighted and shrieking Amelia into his arms, despite Kurt's halfhearted nagging that he shouldn't exert himself, that his heart isn't strong enough.

Carole, of course, instantly starts in on how skinny he is, but he knows it's out of love. He bends down to hug her tight. Finn pats him on the back hard enough to make Kurt stumble, and he scowls at his brother, though it's more at his disgusting Christmas sweater (reindeers with light-up noses, seriously?_)_ than his overenthusiastic greeting and the fact that he still doesn't understand how to control his own freakishly long limbs. They're all talking all at once, and just as Kurt is starting to get overwhelmed, the chatter among them dies down when they notice Kurt glancing toward the hallway.

Blaine lingers in the shadows like a shy little boy. He's dressed in a crisp white button-up that covers up all the scars on his arms under a slim green vest, face shaved clean and gelled neatly back, though not, Kurt is relieved to see, plastered to his head like he'd done in high school. He looks good - gorgeous, even, and Kurt blushes and looks away.

Amelia wriggles away from her grandfather, running over to Blaine and tugging on his hand. "Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle Finn are here!" She jumps up and down, unable to contain her excitement. "They brought me presents!"

"I can see that." Blaine glances over at the growing pile of gifts under the sorry looking tree. Amelia tugs on him again.

"Come say hi, Papa."

Kurt wishes that he wouldn't look so terrified, but he understands, especially with the way Finn is shifting from foot to foot, obviously fighting against himself not to say anything offensive. He nods at Blaine encouragingly, and after another moment's hesitation, he steels himself and steps forward into the living room. "Hi, Mr. Hummel." He mumbles. "Mrs. Hummel. Finn."

Carole steps forward and wraps her arms around Blaine's shoulders, pulling him into a warm, motherly hug. Blaine freezes, glancing at Kurt as if he doesn't know what to do. Carole doesn't let him go, and after a moment, Blaine seems to melt into her embrace, closing his eyes tight and letting her hold him.

"Kurt told us what happened," Carole says when she finally steps back, and Kurt thinks he catches her wiping her eyes when no one is looking. She catches the uncomfortable look on Blaine's face and quickly assures him, "Only the basics. We're all so glad you're okay, honey."

Blaine glances toward Kurt, who smiles and nods, before answering Carole. "Thank you," he says, his voice quiet and a little rough.

"Blaine," Burt says gruffly, clapping him on the shoulder. It makes Blaine startle a bit, but he smiles, wavering and obviously forced.

Finn doesn't acknowledge Blaine at all, until Kurt, who is standing right next to him, nudges him hard in the ribs. He shoots Kurt a scowl but smiles stiffly at Blaine. "Hi."

"'Sup," Blaine mumbles. His shoulders hunch, as if he's trying to make himself smaller.

Kurt hadn't expected Finn to be the one to make this tense. He's about to drag him away to bitch him out when Amelia tugs on Kurt's sleeve. "Daddy, can I have eggnog?"

"Sure, sweetie," he says, glad for the distraction from Blaine. "Eggnog, anyone? Great," he says when everyone nods. "You guys, just make yourselves at home!"

Carole and Finn both sit down, white Amelia grabs Burt's huge hand in her tiny one and drags him over to the Christmas tree, showing him all of the ornaments she put up. Blaine trails after Kurt as he retreats to the kitchen, eyes wide, looking like he's about to have a panic attack.

"You're going to be fine," Kurt says, pulling the jug of eggnog from the refrigerator. "Grab some glasses?"

Blaine opens up the kitchen cabinets and pulls out a few glasses to hand to Kurt. "Finn doesn't want me here."

"Ignore him."

"I don't know, Kurt…"

Kurt puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Just don't make it into a big deal and they won't either." He fills up two glasses of eggnog to hand to him. "I'll keep the attention off of you."

"Thanks."

He helps take the eggnog out to the living room, taking a seat next to Kurt when they settle down too. He huddles close, keeping his head bowed and only speaking when spoken to, though Kurt tries to draw him into the conversation as often as he can, refusing to let him close up too much. Kurt rests a hand on his knee, hoping that the contact will sooth him, and it seems to work… though it does nothing for _Kurt's _nerves. He's never sure what's okay and what isn't with Blaine. Some days he wants to be touched, others he shies away, but without fail, it always makes _Kurt _nervous, and he isn't sure why.

But this is for Blaine. If Blaine is comfortable, Kurt can deal with his own issues, quietly and in his own head where no one else has to see how messy it is.

They make conversation while waiting for the ham to finish cooking, drifting from topic to topic with ease. Kurt knows that it has to be hard for all of them, so he's grateful when Carole and Burt - mostly Carole - make an effort to include Blaine, even if their exchanges are stilted and awkward. Finn is uncharacteristically quiet, shifting uncomfortably in his seat any time Blaine speaks, but he downs his eggnog quickly and spends the time waiting for dinner wrestling with Amelia.

Overall, it's not a disaster, and Kurt finds himself relaxing as he and Blaine set the table, sure that they will get through this with little to no damage.

Dinner passes without much talk other than compliments on the food, until when Kurt is just about to set out desserts, Finn finally blurts out, "Are we seriously just going to sit here and act like this is normal?"

"Finn," Carole warns.

"What are you talking about?" Kurt crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows.

"Nothing about this strikes you as weird?" Finn gestures to Blaine, whose looks like he wants to fall in a hole and disappear as he stares down at his half-empty plate.

"You knew he would be here, it's not a surprise -"

"But I don't get why he's here at all! You guys aren't back together, right?"

Blaine's eyes flick toward Kurt, as if searching for an answer. "No," Kurt says, though he knows he doesn't sound so sure - the nature of their relationship is still confusing even to them. He hopes that he isn't blushing. "No, we aren't."

"Daddy, what's Uncle Finn talking about?"

"Nothing, Amelia. Finish your salad and you can have a sugar cookie."

"So what the hell is going on? We're just going to pretend that nothing happened between you guys? It's just weird, dude! I don't like it." Finn doesn't even look at Blaine, all of his questions directed toward Kurt. Beside him, Blaine seems to shrink with every word, and Kurt wonders how long it will take him to slither under the table and hide.

Kurt's hands clench into fists as he tries to keep himself calm. No one else is allowed to talk about Blaine like this, _no one, _he feels ludicrously like a mother bear protecting her cubs. "That's none of your business, and it isn't appropriate table conversation." On his other side, Amelia looks back and forth between them, eyes wide with confusion. He needs to stop this, he can't talk about it in front of Amelia, can't and won't.

"Let it go, bud," Burt advises. "I'll explain what I can later, okay?"

"No, I'm not going to let it go! This guy _hurt my brother _and we're sitting down having a family dinner with him? Like he gets to be one of us after that?"

Kurt stands up. "_Blaine_ _is family_," he snaps, loud enough to make Finn flinch, "and you don't have to like it but you will _not _talk about this in front of my daughter!"

Finn blinks, his eyes falling on Amelia as if only just noticing her presence at the table, and her face is crumpled with held back tears. She's so sensitive, and when people yell she just can't stand it, even when it's not aimed toward her. Finn stammers, "I - I didn't mean -"

"No, he's right." Blaine finally speaks, head still bowed, causing everyone to look at him. He puts on a wavering smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he stands up. "I shouldn't be here."

"Blaine, don't go," Kurt starts, reaching out to him, but Blaine raises a hand and cuts him off.

"I'm just going to take a walk, I'll see you later." He leaves without another word, despite Amelia softly calling him back. A few moments later the front door opens and slams shut.

The silence is so thick it's almost tangible. Kurt glares at a shocked looking Finn, teeth gritted and fists still clenched. They don't _know, _they don't understand Blaine and don't seem to care to, it just cements in his mind that he is the only one who can come to Blaine's rescue. Out of all the people who he expected to blow up at Blaine, he hadn't expected it to be Finn - Burt, perhaps, but he looks just as disappointed in Finn at the rest of them.

"Bravo, Finn. Merry freaking Christmas." He says coldly.

"I'm sorry -"

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to!" He pushes himself away from the table and makes toward the door. "I'm going after him."

Before he has a chance, Burt scoots his chair back and stands up. "Don't worry about it, Kurt, I'll go get him."

Kurt pauses in the middle of grabbing his coat from rack by the door, looking at his father suspiciously. "He really doesn't need anyone else bitching at him, dad -"

"Do I look like I'm gonna? I just want to talk, that's all. I'll bring him back, don't you worry."

"But -"

"Maybe he needs to be reminded by someone other than you that his family hasn't given up on him yet."

Across the table, Finn's face turns an even deeper shade of red, but no one looks at him. Carole looks up at her husband with eyes brimming with pride and love, and Kurt forces himself to back off. It's not easy. Every bone is his body is thrumming with tension, needing to make sure that Blaine is okay. But Burt has always been wonderful with Blaine, a better father than Blaine's had ever tried to be. _Learn to let go, _Kurt tells himself.

"Okay," he says, hanging his coat back up. "Just - be gentle with him, okay? He's… fragile."

"I bet he's a lot stronger than you think, kiddo." He pats Kurt on the back on his way past, grabbing his own coat and Blaine's before stepping out the door.

* * *

><p>It's fucking freezing out, which makes Blaine feel like an even bigger idiot than before. It's Christmas Eve and the streets are deserted, buildings lit up and streets dusted with the beginnings of snow. Of course it's cold. He didn't bother to bring a coat, and as cozy as his sweater vest is, it really doesn't do much to keep him warm in December. He wraps his arms around himself and keeps walking anyway, to where he has no idea, he just needs out of that suffocating apartment. Kurt's going to kill him if he gets himself hypothermia, but he doesn't care right now, he can just add it to the list of reasons he's stupid.<p>

Stupid of him to forget his stupid coat. Stupid of him to think that he could have a normal night and feel part of a normal family again. Stupid of him to think that they could just _accept _him and how fucked up he really is, no matter how much the meds are helping. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Hey, kiddo."

Blaine stops, turns on his heel at the familiar voice. Burt is standing there, burly in his puffy winter coat, with Blaine's slim black wool one draped over his arm. He holds it out. "Thought you might want this."

He eyes it cautiously before he takes it, tugging it on and feeling himself start to warm up almost immediately. "Thank you," he mumbles.

"Want to come back inside?"

"No."

"Alright."

He doesn't leave, and that baffles Blaine, who can't decide if he'd rather stay out here alone or with Burt. He stares at his ex-father-in-law and can't help but think that Burt looks his age - and for some reason it's unsettling, seeing what time does to people who are supposed to be unbreakable, unchanging. Not that he looks bad - everything about his face is evidence of a good life there are laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, eyes that are still young, and the old baseball cap covering his completely bald head is the same ratty one he remembers. Some things don't change, Blaine supposes. No, he doesn't look bad at all, just… old.

It's hard for Blaine to imagine what he'll look like if he makes himself live that long (yes, he's getting better, but it's still so _hard _sometimes.) Will he manage to be as happy as Burt Hummel? Or will everyone be able to read his face like an open book, and see all these years of sadness, of self-loathing?

Look," Burt finally says, ending a silence previously broken only by a taxi speeding by, a dog barking in the distance. "We all know Finn's a bit of an idiot. Love him like he's my own kid, but he's dumb as a box of rocks sometimes. He knows even less about the whole situation than we do. Carole will talk sense into him and he'll come around, don't worry about it. He just thinks he's taking care of his brother."

"But he's right," Blaine says, hunching his shoulders.

"Like hell he is." Blaine scoffs and turns away, stiffening when Burt comes to stand beside him. "What's got you so upset?" Burt asks.

Blaine can feel his bottom lip tremble as he tries to think of what to say, but holds back the words at the same time. "It's not just Finn, it's… I can't do anything right, can I?" He whispers, voice watery and choked. He feels like such a _child. _"No matter how hard I try, it isn't enough. I wasn't good enough for my parents. I'm not good enough for Kurt or for you guys. I'm just…"

"Blaine, c'mon."

"It doesn't matter what Kurt says, I'm still not part of this family. I'm never going to be." He turns away again, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. _Stupid to cry over something you already knew. _But things had been going so well, and he'd tried so _hard. _

"Now, you listen to me." Burt's hand is like a vice grip on his shoulder, forcing Blaine to turn and face him. A couple of tears fall despite Blaine's best efforts, the night air making them cold as they trickle down his blush-warm face. He hasn't cried in front of Burt in a very long time - it's just as embarrassing as ever. "I ain't gonna pretend to understand what's going on with you and Kurt. He's told me what he wants me to know and I ain't prying. It was none of Finn's business to talk to you like that." His grip relaxes. "Far as I'm concerned, if Kurt says you're part of this family? Then you are. You're Amelia's dad, and you're important to Kurt. That's enough for me."

Blaine can't tell if his shaking is from the cold or holding back more tears. "But you didn't bother to call," he whispers, hating how selfish he sounds. "All this time, you didn't want to talk to me…"

"I had to be on Kurt's side in the whole mess, didn't I?" He shrugs. "I'm sorry about that, but he had to come first. But if you had called me up? I would've helped you out, Blaine, best I could. Still would if you needed me. Personally, I always kinda thought you got the crap end of the deal."

"I hurt him. I deserved it."

"And he left you with nothing." Blaine opens his mouth to protest, to defend Kurt, but Burt holds up a hand. "Hey, I get it. I can't say I was too happy with you either. I just always thought he could have handled everything a bit better."

Blaine shakes his head. "I never blamed him for that. Yeah, I was mad, all I knew how to be was mad, but… it's okay." He forces a smile. "I was proud of him, really. I know what an asshole I was. Still am."

Burt shrugs. "You're trying. That's all you can do. I would've supported you, too, Blaine. You know that, right? Carole, too. We just didn't know how without making Kurt feel like we were betraying him. He wasn't exactly in his right mind back then either."

"No, I get it. I'm glad he had you."

It takes a while to break the silence. Burt watches him in a way that reminds Blaine of Naomi, like he's a puzzle with one missing piece.

"You ready to come back inside?" He finally asks, and Blaine shakes his head before he can even think about it. There are too many people in that apartment right now, people he _should _feel comfortable around but doesn't. At least the cold calms him down, lessens his anxiety. Burt doesn't seem bothered. He leans up against a brick wall behind him and tucks his hands into his pockets. "Alright, so how's life been?"

Blaine can't help but laugh softly, more like a sharp exhale than anything, a puff of steam rising from his lips. "Um. It's been… hard. And really good sometimes, and really bad others. Kurt has been… incredible. I don't think either of us knows what we're doing, but he hasn't given up on me yet. So that's something."

"So you feel like you're getting better?"

"I've been seeing a psychiatrist. And I'm on medication now." Blaine can't help but feel embarrassed, though he knows there's no shame in it. He feels like he's saying too much, but can't stop - Burt has always had that effect on him, too easy to confide in. For some reason he can't help but think of the pills he has to take worming their way into his mind and changing him, changing how he feels. That had _not _been a fun conversation, admitting to Naomi that he needed meds, but Kurt had been with him the whole time, a hand to hold if he needed it. Kurt, as much as he makes Blaine anxious and confused, is still the best thing to happen to him. "It's… I can't say it's making me less sad. But I feel stable. And I haven't had any more relapses. So… I guess it's a good thing. We'll see."

"Hm. Glad to hear it."

Blaine stares down at the pavement under his feat, lightly covered in powdery snow. "Mr. Hummel…" he begins hesitantly, unable to raise his voice over a whisper.

"Call me Burt, kiddo, you're not a teenager anymore," Burt says, and Blaine can hear the smile in his tone even though he doesn't lift his eyes. He wants to point out that he isn't a _kiddo _anymore either, but Burt has never been able to stop using the nickname.

"D-do you and Carole… I mean… you don't hate me, do you?" He blurts out. Ugh. What is it about Burt Hummel that always makes him feel like a child?

Burt raises his eyebrows. He looks ludicrously like Kurt when he does that, though they're normally nothing alike, and it makes Blaine want to laugh. That's happened more and more lately - the urge to laugh. Every time he does, he catches Kurt looking at him, grinning dopily until he realizes that Blaine noticed and stops. It makes his heart do flip-flops, but he doesn't mention them to Kurt. He has enough to worry about without the pressure of even _more _of Blaine's stupid feelings.

"You're a good man, Blaine," Burt finally replies. "You've been through a lot more than anyone should have to. You've done bad stuff, but it obviously wasn't unforgivable. So no, I don't hate you, and neither does Carole."

"But that doesn't excuse what I did."

"No, but Kurt has, hasn't he? Well, that's good enough for me. Like I said, I was pretty pissed at you for a while, we all were. But you're _trying, _Blaine. You're making amends. That's a hell of a lot more than most guys ever do."

"But Finn -"

"Quit worrying about Finn," Burt says, and that's the end of the discussion. He starts walking, heading in the direction of the apartment, and though Blaine isn't sure he's ready to face Finn just yet, he falls into step beside his ex-father-in-law. "Do I need to spell it out for you, Blaine? If Kurt forgives you, we all forgive you. And he sure as hell has."

From wanting to laugh to wanting to cry in a minute. The medication hasn't done much for his mood swings. "You really think so?"

"Haven't you seen the way he looks at you? Just the same as when you were seventeen."

Blaine ducks his head, lips turning up in a smile. Most of his tension has melted away - after so long, he feels almost _normal, _like he's back where he belongs. It's terrifying - it could all be taken away in an instant if he screws up again, and it's all up to Kurt - but he shoves away the fear. "I still love him," he admits, face flushing red.

"'Course you do."

"Don't tell him I said that."

"Why the hell not?" He chuckles at the look Blaine gives him. "Alright, my lips are sealed."

"You aren't mad?"

"You were always going to find your way back to each other," Burt says simply. Blaine breathes a sigh of relief. _It's okay. It's okay. _Burt's hand finds Blaine's shoulder again, and he squeezes gently, and Blaine feels like he's home.

* * *

><p>The warm steam of the chamomile tea is instantaneously soothing as Carole presses the mug into Kurt's hands. "Thank you," he murmurs, lifting it to his nose and breathing in deep. It's still too hot to drink, so he settles for cradling it in his lap.<p>

The only sound in the apartment comes from the TV, where Amelia is watching _How the Grinch Stole Christmas _and singing along under her breath. Finn is outside, has been since Carole cornered him and gave him a stern talking to, his face tomato red as he muttered something about needing some air, though it has to be freezing out. _Good, _Kurt thinks viciously. _Let him freeze a little. _The cold worries him, though - it's been ten minutes, so why hasn't Burt brought Blaine back yet?

"I'm so sorry about Finn," Carole says, sitting down on the other side of the couch with her own mug of tea.

Kurt sighs and curls up in the corner of the couch, tucking his socked feet underneath him. "It's fine. Well, no, it's not, but it will be." He glances at the clock on the wall. He'd hoped to get through present opening sooner, to get Amelia to bed at a decent hour and give him a chance to set out 'Santa's' presents before he passes out, but it will have to wait for Blaine.

"He'll come around," Carole assures him. "I would have given him more detail on what's been going on, but I didn't want to invade your privacy…"

"It's fine," Kurt repeats. He takes a sip of his tea. Still too hot.

Carole watches him in silence for a few seconds too long, enough to make him squirm. "So how are you, Kurt?"

"Good." He replies too quickly. "Blaine's improving; he's on medication now so that's getting better. And Amelia's doing wonderfully in school -"

"That's wonderful," Carole interrupts. "But I want to know how _you're _holding up."

Something in him deflates at that, and he slumps back, sinking further into the soft cushions. He tries to work out how to respond, feeling embarrassingly weepy and not even knowing _why. _It's been a long time since he allowed himself to think about how he's really doing, not just in general but day-to-day.

"I'm… tired," he says. It weighs him down like he's sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He's exhausted, and there's no end in sight. He feels older than he is. "I try so hard, you know? To keep him happy, to keep _everyone _happy. But things like tonight still happen and he takes a step back again. I just feel like nothing I do is _enough._" He blushes, staring down at his feet and mumbling an apology.

Carole takes a sip of her tea, watches him closely. "You really love him, don't you?"

He laughs, or tries to, weak and so sharp it almost hurts as it escapes his lungs. "The least important aspect of all this and yet the thing _everyone _latches onto."

"Of course it's important! Have you told him?"

Kurt shrugs. "Not… in so many words? He knows. I think. But we haven't… done anything about it." _Unless you count fucking almost every night for weeks, _he doesn't add, but he supposes that part of the problem was that he _didn't _count that. Not his proudest moment. "I… can't."

"Sweetheart, have you considered the option that it might be okay to still love him? And act on it?"

"I _can't,_" he repeats, more forcefully than before just in case she didn't get the point. "I'm too scared."

Carole's eyes widen and she leans forward. "Of what, honey? He hasn't hurt you again, has he?"

"No!" Kurt sits up straight. "God, no, it's nothing like that. He _wouldn't. _He was drunk when he did it and he doesn't drink anymore, you know he isn't a violent person."

"He _is _a boxer."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "For stress relief, not actual _fighting._"

"So what are you scared of?"

"The things we said to each other… you have no idea how bad it got. We fought _constantly, _and everything we said was _true, _that was the worst part!" How many nights had he spent lying awake, rubbing at his cheek where he swore it still stung, replaying Blaine's words and thinking, "_he's right"? _"He can hurt me so badly, and I know I can do the same. How can I just let that happen again? How can we kiss and make up knowing that we can turn each other into something this _pathetic?" _He's breathing heavily by the time he finishes, blushing bright red. Carole is just too easy to talk to, sometimes. "I can't do that to him again. I can't let him to it to _me."_

A warm, familiar hand covering his, squeezing gently. Kurt shuts his eyes tight, refusing to cry, while Carole stays silent and lets him calm down. He's never talked about it like _this _before, just let himself _talk _without worrying what people would think. _Is this what Blaine's therapy is like? Because Carole should have chosen a different career path._ It's a relief and unsettling all at once. He blinks his eyes open and looks at Carole, who looks back with a knowing smile.

"But sweetheart, that's what a relationship _is,_" She says. Kurt's only response is to sniffle. "You think your dad and I haven't had our ups and downs? Some days it's a struggle to remember why I married him. Every couple goes through that."

"I know." He's not a teenager anymore. He's not green and naïve, unaware of what the world can throw at him. If anything, he's hopelessly bitter.

"You gave Blaine your heart. Trusting someone like that… it's practically inviting him to hurt you. No one can cut you as deeply as the person you love."

_Morbid, but effective. _"Then what's the point?" Kurt asks, knowing that he sounds too harsh. He's just so _frustrated._

"No one else can make you happier, either."

His eyes burn and he forces himself to breathe, his reply forced through tight lips. "I shouldn't love him, I know I _shouldn't, _but I don't think I know how do anything _but _love him anymore. It's who I am_._"

"That's not a bad thing, Kurt. I always knew that you were going to grow up to be a strong, incredible, compassionate man, and this is proof of that. I couldn't have put the past aside to do what you've done for Blaine, and it's probably because you still love him so much that you can."

_I'm not any of those things, I'm not strong enough for this, I'm selfish and I keep on hurting him and…_

"But I don't love him _enough _either." Kurt says. "Every time he gets too close I push him back, and I know it _hurts. _It hurts me, too. I know if I could just get through this, maybe things would be okay again. So why can't I do it?"

Kurt can't look at her anymore, can't do this, and he isn't even sure why. When he starts to stand up, Carole's hand grips his tighter, forcing him to stay. "Hear me out. I know things got bad, I'm not denying that. And I'm so proud of you for getting out of that relationship when you did, since it was obviously hurting both of you. But I think keeping your distance is hurting more. Blaine is trying so hard, and I know you are too. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to let him a little closer. Maybe that's what both of you need most."

A sob escapes him, louder for holding it back. He rubs his eyes angrily, not even sure why he's getting so emotional. It must be being forced to talk about it, hammering out his feelings into something he can see clearly. It's probably a good thing, but _fuck _does it hurt.

_I just want him back._

All of the sudden his lap is full of Amelia - he'd nearly forgotten that she was still in the room. Her wild hair tickles his chin as she clings to him, her arms wrapping around his chest, her head on his heart. "Don't cry, Daddy." She pleads. "It's Christmas."

Kurt wipes his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when no more tears come. He sets his tea down on the coffee table and snuggles her close. "Okay. I won't." He can already feel the hysteria he'd worked himself into dissipating, the warm familiar weight of his daughter lying on his chest, snuggled up in his arms, grounding him. He can't let himself freak out like this, not anymore. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah. Daddy, what was Uncle Finn talking about at dinner?"

"Nothing." Maybe he'll tell her, when she's older. Maybe he won't, and he'll let her keep putting Blaine on a pedestal, let her see him as her perfect, invincible hero (much the way Kurt used to.) He'll think about that when the time comes. "It's just for grown-ups."

She pouts. "I'm a big girl!"

"You'll always be my sweet little girl." He gives her loud, wet kiss on the cheek, making her giggle.

"No more crying?" She asks.

"No more crying."

She stays snuggled up on his lap for a while, and Kurt finds himself able to calm down while he's holding her, his instinct to love and nurture satiated for now. It's such a relief when she lets him do this. Usually Blaine is her go-to cuddler. He knows that he shouldn't still be bitter about it, but after so many years of bitterness, it's hard to break the habit.

"Thanks," Kurt mumbles, forcing a smile for Carole as he rests his cheek on top of Amelia's hair. "I think I needed that. Sorry for being stupid."

"If you ever need a kick in the ass you know who to call, right?" She winks, and Kurt can't help but laugh, for real this time. It's one of those moments where it hits him that Carole has been in his life longer than his real mother was. It's a thought that usually makes him uncomfortable, but right now, he doesn't really mind. She's not Elizabeth Hummel and she never will replace her even though Kurt can hardly remember her face anymore, but after all these years Carole is definitely the closest thing to a mom he has - and a good one, too. There are some things he can't talk to his dad about, and this was one of them, mostly because he's always paranoid that bringing up the night that Blaine hit him will prompt Burt to take a shotgun to Blaine's face.

The front door opening and the sounds of Burt and Blaine's voices drifting though the kitchen interrupt his thoughts. Kurt automatically tenses, but they don't sound like they're arguing. In fact, they sound almost _happy _as they peel off their coats and hang them up, a dusting of snow falling off and melting as it hits the floor. Sure enough, Blaine instantly smiles when his eyes meet Kurt's.

_Who are you and what have you done with Blaine? _He wants to ask. Blaine perches on the arm of the couch next to Kurt, murmuring "hey" as he sits down.

"Hey," Kurt echoes. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright, don't worry. We had a good talk." He nods toward Burt, who is in the process of sneaking a few sugar cookies until Kurt gives him a _look. _Blaine's tilts his head to the side, concerned as he looks at Kurt. "What about you, are you okay? Your eyes are all red."

_Stop pushing him a way, let him get close, _Kurt tells himself. "I'm fine now." He hesitates only a moment before giving into impulse, leaning into Blaine's side and using his thigh as a pillow. It takes a second for Blaine to respond, but when he does, he cradles the back of Kurt's head in his hand, gently running his fingers through the loose hair back there. Kurt isn't sure what's happening, but all the tension leaks from his body at Blaine's touch, his strong fingers massaging his scalp, so it can't really be a bad thing. He sighs and his eyes fall shut, listening to the chatter around him now that the apartment is full again, stiffness easing out of him with every press of Blaine's fingertips. _Don't be afraid._

Finn comes back in, and Kurt opens his eyes to scowl at him while he stammers and blushes through his apologies. "I wasn't thinking, man. I'm sorry."

Kurt glances up at Blaine to see him nodding. "No hard feelings." Finn grins and holds out his fist, which Blaine tentatively bumps.

Amelia disentangles herself from Kurt's arms and sits up. (He's a little disappointed, she had been so quiet that he'd thought she'd fallen asleep.) "Now that _that's _settled," she huffs, making Kurt press his face into Blaine's side to muffle his laughter, "can we _please _open presents now?"

For her there are dresses that Kurt designed and sewed himself, some stuffed animals and dolls, a huge box of Legos, and other various goodies. She shrieks and flails over every single one, offering generous amounts of hugs and kisses to every member of her family. Kurt wasn't sure what to get Blaine, but he'd found an absurd bowtie with reindeers printed on it in an antique shop weeks back and picked it up without thinking about it. Blaine doesn't wear them as much as he used to, but when Blaine opens the box, he laughs aloud (and god, that is a sound that makes Kurt's heart _soar)_, and hugs Kurt far more tightly than such a small gift warrants.

They can't seem to stop touching - little brushes of their fingers, Kurt staying snuggled into his side the entire time they open their presents. Blaine doesn't tense up. He's quiet still he still hides behind Kurt whenever Burt or Carole or especially Finn speak, but it's not as bad as earlier in the evening when he refused to join in on the conversation at all. It all feels… _normal._.

Kurt doesn't know what's changed, exactly, but instead of feeling anxious when he touches Blaine, he can now repeat in his mind (in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Carole), _Don't be afraid, it's okay._

_It's okay to love him. He's not going to hurt you. You're okay._

He's not quite ready, but he knows that the more he tells himself that, the sooner he will be.

* * *

><p>In all the Christmas excitement, Amelia passes out in her pile of new toys, in the middle of insisting, "<em>I'm not tired, I don't wanna go to bed!" <em> Blaine immediately scoops her up to put her in bed while Kurt puts out her presents from 'Santa' in record time, breathing a sigh of relief now that it's _finally _time to sleep. Burt, Carole, and Finn all leave soon after, ready to retreat to their hotel room for the night - the apartment is hardly big enough for the people living there, much less three guests - with promises to return for brunch the next day.

"Bedtime?" Blaine murmurs in Kurt's ear, gently squeezing his hand.

"Bedtime," Kurt agrees with a yawn. They make their way down the hall, hand in hand, and Kurt is exhausted, but in a good way. They stop in front of the door to Kurt's room, and when Blaine lets go of Kurt's hand he flexes it absently, feeling empty without Blaine's firm grip. "You know, I think as far as family drama goes that Christmas was actually pretty mellow."

"Could have been worse."

"I told you they wouldn't hate you." Blaine tries and fails to hide a smile. "Hey. I'm glad you came back. Don't know what Dad said to you, but… it wouldn't have been Christmas without you."

"I'm glad you made me stay. I'm…" he hesitates. "I feel good. Happier than I've been in a really long time."

Kurt couldn't stop himself from hugging Blaine if his life depended on it. Blaine's arms flail at his sides for a moment until they wrap around Kurt, loosely, as if giving him the option to run away. Part of Kurt really wants to, but instead he holds on tighter. _Don't be afraid. _"That's all I want," he says. "That's all I've ever wanted."

"I'm sorry."

"Hmm?" He steps back out of the embrace to look at Blaine's face. "What for?"

"That you have to deal with all of this. Deal with me, my… issues. I know it's hard on you. I wish you didn't feel like you have to."

There are many things he could say, that he even considers saying. He doesn't - he pushes away the urge to snap, to scorn, his most trusted defense. Instead, he steels himself, and tears down the walls. He looks straight into Blaine's eyes and says, "Yeah. It is hard." Blaine opens his mouth to speak, maybe apologize again, but Kurt goes on. "But there is nothing else I would rather be doing."

He looks like he's in shock. "Kurt…" he whispers.

Kurt steps back, hand on the doorknob of his bedroom. "Merry Christmas, Blaine," he says with a grin. A smile spreads slowly across Blaine's face, but Kurt doesn't wait for a reply before he retreats to his room, leaving the door cracked behind him, an open invitation.

_Maybe,_ he thinks as he goes through a quick version of his skin-care regime and pulls on his pajamas, _maybe Carole is right_. Maybe all he can do is be there, and show Blaine that he cares, and push his own fears aside no matter how hard it is. Maybe sometimes that's what it takes. Not to cure him, if it were even possible to cure him - which, admittedly, is a hard thing to accept. But to make things easier? Yeah. He can do that.

When Blaine crawls into bed with him no more than an hour later, Kurt throws an arm across Blaine without thinking twice, pulling him in and nuzzling his face into the skin of his bare shoulder. After an evening of trading light touches that only made him ache for more, it seems natural. It takes a moment, but eventually Blaine's hand comes up to rest on the small of Kurt's back, hesitant at first but soon warm and solid.

Blaine doesn't usually touch him when they sleep together like this, or when he does it's nothing more than holding his hand - they don't _snuggle, _not until now. It's relaxing, yes, but Kurt finds himself unable to do more than doze despite how tired he is. It reminds him of when they first started living together, or even the first time they shared a bed - so close, so warm and unfamiliar.

"I want to kiss you," Kurt whispers, eyes closed as he slowly starts to drift off. "I don't know why I haven't yet, why I'm still so scared of this. And I am. I'm terrified."

No answer.

"But maybe it's okay to be scared," he continues. "Maybe that's just part of it. I have no idea what I'm doing. And I'm sorry it's taking me so long to figure it out, but I can't rush into things." Nothing. Kurt sighs and nuzzles closer. His mind is fuzzy with sleep sneaking up on him, his eyes puffy and irritated from held-back tears. "I do love you. So much it hurts. I'm just scared of what that means."

He startles when Blaine finally makes a sound, a loud and obnoxious snore right next to his ear. Kurt can't hold back a giggle as he tugs the blankets up to their chins, sitting up a little to press a kiss to Blaine's forehead, right above his eyebrow. "Merry Christmas." His lips brush Blaine's skin as he whispers, and Blaine squirms in his sleep and snores again.

As scared as he is - he can't help that - Kurt has never felt more at peace than he is here in Blaine's arms.


	20. My Love is an Iron Ball

**A/N: One more chapter to go... *hyperventilates***

* * *

><p>"So, Blaine." Naomi pushes her glasses higher on her nose and smiles. "How are you feeling?"<p>

Blaine leans back on his bed, hands behind his head, and shrugs. His own smile comes with ease. "Good," he says. "Really good."

"You've said that every day for the past few weeks," she points out.

"It's always true!" Not that he hasn't had bad days. At first, he felt like a failure, for still being miserable even after taking his medication, but he's starting to come to terms with the fact that there will always be bad days. There's nothing he can do about that. But week after week, there's more and more time between those days. The lack of self-loathing is the best part, he thinks. The fact that he's finally able to think about himself in a better light, at least some of the time - and some of the time is better than no time at all - instead of hating himself and everything he does. Logically, he knows that the medication has to have something to do with it, but that still makes him uncomfortable, ashamed. He likes to pretend he's gotten better all on his own.

"Did I tell you I might have a job?" He rambles excitedly. "I applied at the elementary school Amelia's going to next year. It's just a substitute position for now, but the music/youth choir teacher is retiring soon, and I've got plenty of experience and love teaching kids, so…"

"That's _wonderful, _Blaine." Naomi's grin grows wider. She talks like a professional, but just from her mannerisms and body language, Blaine thinks that if he spoke with her outside of a counseling session, she would be just like any other 20-something woman. He should invite her over for dinner sometime, once he's done with therapy - something tells him that they could actually be good friends. "I'm impressed with how far you've come since your last relapse. And there haven't been any more since then?"

"Nope." There have been one or two anxiety attacks, but he's used to them by now. They're manageable. It's nothing compared to how it used to be, and Kurt is always there to calm him down. "I really do feel great, Naomi."

"Then how would you feel about moving these sessions to every other week?"

That makes him pause. "…really? You think I could do that?"

"I think with how much you've improved, it's about time. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"A little," he admits. He's gotten so used to the schedule, and knowing that if something happened he would only have to wait a few days at the most to tell her about it, that idea of seeing her less often is just… strange.

"Good." Blaine raises his eyebrows, and Naomi just grins as she scribbles something in her notebook. Sometimes Blaine thinks that she writes gibberish just to make him wonder what she's taking notes on, but he hasn't peeked. "I'm glad that our weekly sessions have helped, but it's important to push yourself out of your comfort zone sometimes. So, would you be up for that?"

"I… yeah. Yeah, that's fine. If, um… if I had a relapse, could I make an emergency appointment?"

"Of course, but I doubt you will. I'm not sure you realize just how impressed I am with you, Blaine."

"You're too nice."

"Nope. Only the truth here." She's quiet for a moment, contemplating. "Can I ask how things are going with Kurt?"

Blaine squirms a little on the bed, trying to hide his blush. "They're… fine. I don't know. I mean, we're close. He's my best friend. But… that's it. I don't know, it doesn't matter."

"Do you really think you need him anymore?" Blaine's head shoots up, staring at her with wide eyes. She holds up a hand. "Sorry, that didn't come out right. I just meant that you seem functional. You take care of Amelia while Kurt is at work, you're putting in job applications, you're not so anxious in public anymore…" Blaine wants to argue that he's still plenty anxious, but that's not the point she's trying to make. "What's keeping you here, exactly?"

He has no idea how to answer. Leaving hasn't crossed his mind for a long time. Not since the beginning when he was desperate to be left alone, to be away from Kurt and everything that reminded him of what he lost. His landlady is sweet enough to let his apartment sit empty until he makes a decision, but he knows that she must be getting impatient. He tries to imagine going home, if that shitty hole-in-the-wall can be called a home. He might have to go to the neighbor's to use their bathroom so that he doesn't have to see the place where he tried to end his life. He'd have to talk to Kurt about what to do with Amelia, though he doubts that Kurt would deny him joint custody unless he screws up again - and if he does fall off the wagon, he thinks he might even _want _her to only stay with Kurt until he gets back up, keep her away from all that.

It's hard to think about, but he can if he tries. He's healthier than ever, he's functional. He'll be able to pay rent again soon, on a regular basis this time now that half his paycheck won't go toward booze - god, he hopes it won't go toward booze. Kicking the addiction is almost as hard as the depression, but he's managed to hold off any cravings through sheer determination and remembering how disappointed Kurt had been the last time. The closest he's come to hurting himself again is during those couple of panic attacks, losing control of that nervous habit of digging his fingernails into his palms. He misses the release that cutting used to bring, but he quickly discards the notion when he remembers the pain.

The only thing keeping him here is Kurt. Kurt who is his best friend, but _just _his best friend, who despite saying _I want you _and _just give me time, _hasn't tried to push that boundary any further. Kurt who he loves, but who hurts to be around when he thinks about what they could be, _should_ be, but aren't. What kind of just-friends live together and raise their child together - what kind of _divorced husbands _live together?

"Blaine?"

Blaine shakes his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat. "I don't know. I guess I hadn't thought about it."

"Now, I'm not trying to tell you what to do. It's all up to you and Kurt. But remember what I said about pushing your comfort zone. The purpose of staying with Kurt was to give you a safe place until you were rehabilitated, and I'd say that if you're not there already then you're close enough. Staying here for much longer may just hold you back. But like I said, it's your choice."

"You really think I'm that much better?" Blaine asks softly.

"I really do."

He can hardly comprehend it. So much of his life has been consumed by this that he doesn't know what to do _without _his depression. Without that, who is he? Paired with the suggestion of going back home and cutting back on therapy sessions, he feels like he's been turned upside-down and shaken out, all this thoughts rattled and disjointed.

"I don't really know what to say."

"That's okay." She always does that, reassures him that it's okay, whatever he says. It's kind of endearing.

"If… um. If I do… leave… could we maybe hold off on switching to therapy every other week? It's just, there's a lot of bad memories in that apartment, and I don't know if it might trigger something, and…"

"Whatever you want," she assures him. "You don't have to make a decision now, of course. No pressure either way, it was just a suggestion. But if you want to talk to be about it, you can always call me."

"Thanks."

He doesn't talk much through the rest of the sessions, but Naomi doesn't seem bothered. It happens, sometimes, when she gives him something big to think about, and this certainly will require a lot of thinking. He can hardly imagine not waking up next to Kurt in the mornings, or spending every single day with Amelia.

But he thinks about Kurt, and how much it hurts lying in the same bed just to be able to sleep through the night, knowing that he can try and try and try and nothing he does will be enough for Kurt fall in love with him again. The sooner he accepts that the better, right?

By the time the hour is up and Naomi leaves him alone in his room, he's all but made his decision.

* * *

><p>Kurt wonders if this is what it feels like when Blaine has one of his panic attacks.<p>

He doesn't mean to listen. Really. He's just doing the laundry, and it's not his fault the laundry room is one room away from Blaine's. It's not his fault that the washing machine doesn't cover up the sound of their voices. It's not his fault that he hears Naomi tell Blaine to move out.

He can't breathe; honest to god cannot draw a breath. It's terrifying. What's going to protect Blaine when he isn't here? What's to keep him from slashing his wrists again, or taking too much of his medication, or drinking? He knows that Blaine isn't a child, doesn't need to be coddled. But doesn't Naomi understand that he, Kurt, is the one keeping Blaine from falling apart again?

Doesn't _Blaine _understand that?

He trails after Naomi as she leaves Blaine's room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, and calls out to her before she can leave the apartment. "We need to talk," he says, fully aware of how cold his voice must sound.

She just smiles, looking mildly curious. "Sure. What did you need?"

"Sit down, please?"

She takes her seat in the living room, smoothing out that awful grey skirt, still looking at him in that mildly curious way that has never bothered Kurt before but now makes him want to scream. He sits too, across from her, and wastes no time. "You told Blaine to leave."

"…That was a private conversation."

Kurt ignores her. "Why the _hell_ would you do that_?_"

"I didn't _tell _him to do anything," she says. How can she be so infuriatingly calm about this? "I just suggested that he might be ready to move on. I didn't make a decision for him either way."

"You have no right - he's _fine _here, he's happy, sending him back there is only going to make things worse again!"

"Why don't you let _him _make that decision?"

Unable to keep still, Kurt stands up, pacing back and forth in front of her. "He needs to be with his family. He needs _me._"

"With all due respect, Mr. Hummel," Naomi says sharply, making him pause. Normally he would tell her to call him Kurt, but he's still angry with her, so he doesn't. "I think you need him a lot more than he needs you."

Kurt shakes his head and paces faster. He wraps his arms around himself as if that will hold in the anger, and more overpowering, the _fear._ "Well, what's wrong with that?" He snaps. "What's wrong with me needing someone too?"

"This isn't about you. It's about what Blaine needs. You knew this was going to happen. He was never going to stay here forever, was he?" Kurt scoffs and looks away, hating that she's right. In the beginning, the entire _goal _was to get Blaine stable enough to go home. When had they forgotten that? "Whether he wants to stay here or go home, that's his choice, but he needs to start living his own life again."

"I don't want him to go," Kurt whispers. It's not _fair. _He hasn't even had a chance to tell Blaine how he feels. He keeps putting it off and putting it off, making up a flimsier excuse every time. And now it's too late. "He'll be all by himself I won't be able to help him, and… I don't want to be alone."

Naomi bites her lip, watching him with eyes older that look so much older than the face they're set in. Right now, though, she doesn't look older, or much life a professional. She looks like a young girl, muddling her way through, and Kurt feels a pang of sympathy through his frustration. She sighs. "He's my first regular client, you know," she admits. "The first one who came back for more than a couple sessions. I… I might not know exactly what the right choice is, but I want him to be happy and healthy just as much as you do, Mr. Hummel, and I'll do whatever it takes to help him. And I really think that this could be good for him."

"But he's gotten better with me. Hasn't he?"

"Of course he has, but he feels… stuck. Stagnant. That's not good for him. He needs to go back to real life."

_And_ _what am I supposed to do when he's gone? _He thinks, and then wants to slap himself. _This isn't about you. It isn't about making Blaine fall in love with you. It's about making him better. _He takes a deep, shaky breath. "As long as he's happy," he says quietly. "That's what matters." _No matter how much it hurts me._

All he can think about is how they're going to tell Amelia, how inconsolable she'll be. The only person who would be able to calm her down is Blaine, and he won't be there, and she will _hate _Kurt for it. Just the thought of what this will do to the family he's managed to piece back together breaks his heart.

"Talk to him," Naomi says, making Kurt look up at her again. "He's more scared than you are. _If_ he wants to leave, he needs your support too."

He wants to laugh. _Perfect. _Not only is Blaine leaving, but now Kurt has to tell him it's a good idea. Just perfect. Instead of saying any of this, he just nods. Of course he'll do it. It might kill him, but he'll do it.

_As long as he's happy._

When he leans in the doorway of Blaine's bedroom, Blaine is standing by the closet, looking at the few items of clothing he'd bothered to hang up. The majority of it is still in his duffel bag, shoved into a corner. He never planned on staying this long, didn't even bother to unpack.

Blaine glances up, offering Kurt a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Hey."

Kurt looks around the room. It's never felt like _Blaine's, _it's just a place to keep the few things he brought along, and soon it will be empty again, with no trace of anyone living there. "You're leaving, aren't you?" He asks, voice already rough.

The smile falls away, and Blaine sucks in a deep breath and turns back to the closet. What he's looking for, Kurt couldn't say. "You heard me and Naomi talking."

It's not a question, and there's no point in denying it. Kurt stares down at his feet, face burning in shame. He shouldn't have listened, should never have let himself. "I'm sorry."

"I would have told you anyway."

"So it's true."

"I'm… considering it." Blaine answers carefully. "Kurt, you have gone above and beyond everything that was expected of you. And you have no idea how grateful I am, but I can't keep taking advantage of your generosity like this."

It's flat and rehearsed, but Kurt doesn't point out that he knows Blaine is lying. He doesn't know the real reason - maybe he doesn't even want to know - but obviously, Blaine doesn't want to say it. "You don't have to go, you know?" He glances up at Blaine for a moment to catch him staring, and quickly averts his eyes again. "I mean, whatever you need to do, I guess. But it's not like that. You're not taking advantage of anything. You have to know…" Kurt takes a deep breath. "I would _never _turn you away, Blaine. I _wanted_ to do this."

Blaine is quiet for a long time, so long that Kurt wonders if he hadn't heard. When he looks up Blaine is still just watching, staring at him, and there's an _ache _in his eyes when he looks at Kurt, deep and raw.

Finally, he replies, and he sounds just as scared as Kurt feels. "Haven't I messed up your life enough?"

Kurt laughs. He doesn't know _why _his heart is breaking to pieces, but he can't help but laugh, though quietly. _You really don't understand, do you? You have no idea what you mean to me. _He wipes away the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. "Bit of a masochist, I guess."

God, Blaine's _smile. _It's barely there, but it's beautiful even though it hurts to see. "I have to do this, Kurt," he says. Kurt can't tell whom he's trying to reassure.

"I know you do. I know." And he does. After calming down, and thinking about it, and training himself to breathe again, he had understood entirely. Blaine _is _stagnant here, and Kurt won't be the one to tie him down. He takes a step into the room. "I just wanted you to know that… you can come back any time, okay? Or call me. Whatever you need. If you need help, or you feel like you're in danger, or you just need a friend…" His voice breaks on the word 'friend.' He supposes that's all they'll ever be, now, and maybe someday he'll be okay with that. "Just because you're on your own doesn't mean you have to be lonely."

Blaine tries and fails to hide a sniffle, letting out a shaky laugh and turning back to his closet. "I'll tell Amelia. She'll just be mad at you if you tell her, and she might as well get mad at the right person."

That's it, then. It's official. Kurt swallows, and forces himself to hold back tears until he's out of the room. "Okay. Yeah. That's probably for the best. We'll work out who gets her when later, but it'll be equal, I promise."

"That's all I want." Blaine shoots him another smile that looks horrible, inappropriately kissable. _Just do it, _a part of Kurt says, _just kiss him, _but he shoves it away. "I need to pick her up from school. Maybe I'll take her out for ice cream, make her happy with me before…" He trails off, shaking his head. "When I get back, do you want to help me decide what to wear to my job interview?" He pulls on the sleeve of one of his suits, holding it out for Kurt to see. "I'm thinking -"

"The green tie - _not_ the ironically hideous bowtie, that's _thing _is not even funny." Kurt blurts out.

Blaine raises his eyebrows. "The kids love my ugly bowties. The uglier the better."

"That's because they think you're Doctor Who and you won't discourage them. Wear the green one," he insists. "It's understated, but still gorgeous. Very professor-ly. Makes your eyes look amazing."

Two spots of pink bloom high on Blaine's cheeks, but he nods. "You're the best," he says, and Kurt tries to smile but thinks that he probably just looks pained.

Blaine leaves to pick up Amelia not long after, and Kurt's eyes burn hotter with every step Blaine takes toward the door, knowing that soon he won't be coming back. His throat is so tight as he dials Rachel's number that he's afraid he won't be able to speak when she picks up.

"Kurt! Hello! How's my best gay - oh my god, why are you crying?"

"'m not crying," he mumbles, even as a hot tear rolls down his cheek. He rubs it away angrily, slumping back against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut.

"I've heard you cry enough times to know what it sounds like, now tell me what happened before I freak out!" Her voice goes shrill, and he holds the phone further from his ear.

"He's leaving," Kurt chokes. "He's leaving, and I don't know what to do. What am I supposed to do without him, Rachel?"

"Oh, honey…"

She doesn't make him talk, except when he needs too, and she doesn't talk much herself, odd as that is for Rachel Berry. But she lets him cry, knowing that false comforts won't help. He doesn't need to hold back with Rachel, she's seen him at his best and worse, and crying over the phone is nothing new. That doesn't mean he _likes _it - it's stupid, so _stupid _to feel this way, to feel like this is ripping him in two. But she doesn't tell him so, doesn't make him feel like an idiot for crying over this, even though he knows he is.

"Kurt, why don't you just _tell _him?" She asks, once his cries have dwindled down to the occasional shuddering sob. "If it means that much to you…"

Kurt shakes his head though she can't see him. Somehow, he'd ended up sitting on the floor, knees hugged to his chest, and he can see teardrop stains on the denim of his jeans. His voice is rough when he speaks. "No. I can't do that. Him being as happy as he can be, that's what matters, and he's not happy here, so... no. I won't try to change his mind."

Rachel sighs. "Sometimes I wish you were more selfish. It's okay to be, sometimes."

"Not with him."

* * *

><p>Amelia does end up angry with him, or angry in general. She comes home with an ice-cream stain on her dress, a bright red face, and furious tears in her eyes. Blaine just looks exhausted.<p>

"I don't want papa to move! You're both _stupid!" _She screams. She turns to face Kurt, hands balling into fists. "Why don't you make Papa stay? You're supposed to love each other!"

"It's Papa's choice, Amelia," Kurt says, rubbing his tired eyes. He wonders how obvious it is that he's been crying.

"So? Why can't we just be a family? I don't wanna go back to Papa's stupid smelly house! I hate it!"

"That's _enough, _Amelia," Blaine snaps, loud enough that Kurt can tell it's been just like this the entire time. She gives one last indignant shriek before stomping to her room and slamming the door behind her. _Five going on fifteen, _Kurt thinks. It's a joke he makes often but he can't find the humor in it right now.

Blaine looks at him, and then quickly away, like he's just too tired to deal with anything else, or too ashamed. He doesn't say anything before he goes back to his own room, and Kurt already feels like a stranger in his own house.

_The scene is the same, but instead of a strong wind, there is a gentle breeze, and a blue sky in place of black. And he's not chained on the far side of the balcony, but standing at the rail, next to Blaine as they look out at the city below them. Blaine's hand is warm, clasping Kurt's hand gently in his own._

_Blaine turns to look at him. His eyes are bright, not dull and dead but so alive. He smiles, and Kurt smiles back even though it hurts to do so. If he can speak in this version of the dream he doesn't know, but he doesn't try. There's nothing to say._

_Blaine steps up onto the thin rail, and Kurt can't help but grip his hand tighter, but he doesn't even wobble. He looks back at Kurt only once before he drops Kurt's hand. He shuts his eyes and stretches his arms out wide, and lets himself tip forward._

_This time he doesn't fall._

_He flies. Higher, and higher, and higher, and Kurt can only watch._

When Kurt wakes up there are tears on his cheeks and staining his pillowcase, and they just keep coming, steady and silent. His breath hitches as he tries to contain himself, but Blaine is already awake, his arms around Kurt's waist and tugging him close.

"Hey, hey," he murmurs sleepily. "Kurt? What happened? What's wrong?"

Kurt shakes his head, turning a little to bury his face in the crook of Blaine's neck. The person causing him pain is the last person he should be looking to for comfort. As soon as he thinks that he knows that he's wrong, though, it's only Kurt that's making this hard, leaving seems to be _easy _for Blaine.

But he's there, and warm, and his hands are soothing where they stroke across Kurt's back, and Kurt clings to him as he shakes and tries to stop crying, to no avail. If he can just hold tight enough then Blaine will stay, here in his arms forever.

What little Blaine owns is in boxes, piled up in the living room, waiting to go out to the car. Tomorrow he's going home. This might be the last time he gets to hold onto Blaine.

"Shh," Blaine whispers. His hands smooth over Kurt's sides, down his back, and Kurt tries to savor it. "It's okay, don't cry. You're okay. Just a bad dream."

_That's the problem,_ he wants to scream, but he can't make the words come.

It wasn't a nightmare. It was beautiful.

* * *

><p>The goodbye drags on for too long. Kurt hadn't meant it to. He'd tried to make it quick and simple, a clean break, even though all he wants is to keep Blaine close. Instead, Blaine lingers in the doorway, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, while Kurt fusses over him.<p>

"You're sure you haven't forgotten anything?" He's lost count of how many times he's asked.

"I'm sure, and if I did forget I'll come and pick it up another time," Blaine assures him.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come and help move stuff? Or I can come over and cook something for dinner, I don't know, just… _something."_

"Santana's bringing pizza and she's helping me move everything," Blaine says patiently. "It's not that much stuff, Kurt. You've done plenty. We'll be fine."

"I know you will."

"So don't worry about it."

"You know I can't help it." Blaine sighs, glancing from Kurt to the door behind him and back to Kurt. He's eager to go and Kurt can't blame him even though he doesn't like it. But he seems nervous, too, and it's still important to get Blaine to open up, talk about what he's feeling. Just because Blaine doesn't want to be here doesn't mean Kurt can't still try to help him. "Are you scared?"

"Terrified," he admits, unable to make eye contact. "There's a liquor store within walking distance from my place. I know I've been doing well with the drinking, but what if… what if I do something stupid just because there's no one to stop me?"

"Promise you'll call me, then, if you feel like you need to drink, and I'll talk you out of it. Call me whenever you need to." Blaine promises, but still doesn't look comforted, so Kurt adds, "Hey. You're going to be _fine_, I know it."

_But_ _I won't be._

Blaine takes a deep, shaky breath.. "Thank you, Kurt," he whispers. "For everything. You've been just… amazing. I know it's not enough, but… thank you."

"What for, I haven't _done _anything -"

"Yes you have!"

"Every time something went wrong, it was because of me," Kurt says, hating the way his voice breaks.

"That's not true. You saved my life."

Kurt shakes his head. "You saved your own. I am _so_ proud of you."

Blaine looks down at his feet, and Kurt wishes he could see his eyes, get an inkling of what he might be feeling. Is he sad? Scared, excited? All three plus a hundred more emotions Kurt can't even see? It's like there's a wall between them, invisible but thick.

"God, I'll miss you," Kurt whispers, hardly aware of speaking. Blaine's head shoots up again, eyes wide. Now he can see what Blaine is feeling - it's heartbreak. But Kurt has no idea why. _He's _the one leaving

"Kurt -"

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad about it. I just wanted you to know. I'll miss having you here." He shrugs, as if to say _no big deal, _but they both know that's not true. "Not sure what I'll do with myself when you're gone. It's going to be weird sleeping alone."

Blaine looks so stricken that Kurt immediately starts babbling faster. "Oh, god, please just ignore me. I didn't mean anything by that. You should just go, you don't want to be around me, making everything weird…"

"It's not like we'll never see each other," Blaine says. Is Kurt imagining it, or is his voice a little shaky? "I mean, taking Amelia back and forth and whatnot… and I like to think we're friends. Friends hang out, right?"

"It's not the same." _Ugh, _he thinks. He sounds like such a brat.

"I know, but still." Blaine peeks at him shyly from underneath his eyelashes. How he still manages to be so beautiful and so tragic will always baffle Kurt. He takes a deep breath. "I'm never saying goodbye to you."

If anything should bring on the waterworks, that's it, but it doesn't. Kurt hasn't been able to cry since he woke in the middle of the night and sobbed into Blaine's shirt for hours. Not while helping Blaine take his things out to the car, not while Amelia said her goodbyes before going to spend the night at Rachel's (_I just need a little time,_ he'd explained when Rachel picked her up_, I just need time to be alone and throw myself a pity party and then get the fuck over it._) He feels drained, of tears, of everything.

But it makes his breath catch, his throat close up. _God damn you, _he thinks, _only you can make me feel so many things all at once._

He doesn't let himself think before he throws his arms around Blaine's neck, and Blaine doesn't hesitate before pulling Kurt closer. The embrace is crushing and desperate and borderline painful but Kurt doesn't let go, _can't. _His hands fist into the fabric of Blaine's shirt, wrinkling it beyond repair. Blaine's loose, floppy curls tickle his cheeks when he nuzzles close, and Kurt tucks his face into the crook of Blaine's neck while Blaine does the same.

_Don't go, _he wants to whisper in Blaine's ear.

It's instinct and instinct only when he pulls back and shuts his eyes tight, when he surges forward to press a dry kiss to Blaine's lips, closed-mouthed and too hard, gripping tight to Blaine's shoulders to hold him still. Blaine breathes in sharply through his nose, and the sound is deafening so close. He gives Blaine enough time to respond, to kiss back or shove him away or something, _anything,_ but he just stands frozen, shocked. He might as well be a statue.

Kurt steps back, putting space between them. He already misses the warmth of Blaine's arms and the toothpaste flavor on his lips.

_That's it, then, _Kurt thinks, oddly numb to the thought. _He doesn't want me._ Blaine knew, had to know, what Kurt kissing him meant, and he hadn't done _anything. _It's too late, Kurt knows it, already knew it. He'd had a hundred chances, and never took them. That hadn't stopped him from hoping, and it doesn't stop it from hurting now. But Blaine doesn't make a sound except for harsh, ragged breathing, and Kurt doesn't, can't, open his eyes.

"You'd better go, or you'll never make it out the door," Kurt whispers.

"Kurt -"

"Just _go._"

Silence that seems to drag out forever, and then footsteps, and a door opening and shutting. Not a slam, but a soft click. _Not with a bang, but with a whimper._ Kurt blinks his eyes open.

The space in front of him is empty, and every sign that Blaine was ever here is gone.

Kurt wanders into the kitchen and sinks onto the barstool behind him, propping his elbows up on the countertop and hiding his face in his hands, breathing heavily. He almost _wants_ to cry, to wash himself clean of every emotion running through him, but his eyes stay dry.

He waits for Blaine to come back, his one last blind hope. Waits for him to rush in and take Kurt into his arms and kiss him, kiss him, never stop kissing him, like every ending to the best romances, the old black-and-white films on which a younger Kurt had based his expectations of love. But minutes pass, then half an hour of sitting alone in the kitchen, and Kurt just feels stupid.

Life isn't a musical, and his life has never ended up like any of his dreams. Happy endings don't happen to Kurt Hummel.

All is quiet but the ticking of the clock. He listens to the silence, and thinks that he has never felt so alone.


	21. The Only Place That I Call Home pt 1

**A/N: **I opted to post the last chapter in two parts, since it ended up being ridonkulously long. Still posting them at the same time though. I'll put my final author's note at the beginning of the second part. So sorry for the long wait, this chapter was a BITCH to write. I just couldn't get in Kurt's head anymore, so it took rewriting half the scenes from Blaine's POV to make it work. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

**Warning for**: Probably bad descriptions of panic attacks, mentions of self-harm.

* * *

><p>Santana is already waiting for Blaine when he gets to the apartment, lounging on top of her car. She grins when he climbs out of his own car and walks over to her, and he even manages to put on a smile in return. He hopes it doesn't shake too much - all of him has been shaking since he walked out Kurt's door.<p>

"Thank you so much for coming," he says, sitting down next to her. They're not the hugging sort of friends, so he doesn't try. She's here for moral support as much as anything else. He _could _move the meager amount of stuff that had accumulated at Kurt's house on his own… but he's not sure how well he'll handle walking into that apartment.

"You only want me for the pizza," she scoffs. Even her work clothes are absurdly sexy, from an objective viewpoint. He would say she doesn't even realize that she does it, but no, she is fully aware of every aspect of her body and uses it all, Blaine just isn't sure why she bothers with him. "So I already went up and stole all your booze, by the way."

"Shit, I hadn't even thought about that."

"What would you do without me, Blainers?"

"Sometimes I wonder."

He leans back against the car, staring up at the window two floors above. The curtains are drawn, just as he'd left them. He doesn't know what he expects to have changed. It's still going to be a shithole, and not even a shithole he has fond memories of, so why is he doing this, again?

Right. He has to learn to be _independent _again. So far, he doesn't like it much.

"Whatcha thinking about, Blanderson?" Santana asks as she sits up.

"That I really don't want to go in there." He doesn't have to pretend, with Santana, never has - he can say exactly what's on his mind, and it doesn't matter, because she would do the same.

"So… why are you, exactly?"

"I have to."

"Uh, _no, _actually. Unless Hummel kicked you out, which I seriously doubt. It's like when you kick a puppy and he doesn't understand why you did it so he just keeps coming back for more."

"Shut up," Blaine snaps. "Don't talk about him like that."

"Ookay, chill out." She rolls her eyes. He knows it's useless to get mad at her, she thrives on it, but sometimes she's just too mean. He doesn't really know anymore how they ended up friends, except that he amused her, and she sort of scared him and they managed to come to a mutual understanding from there. "Something happened, didn't it?"

"No."

"C'mon, Blainers."

"Can we just get this stuff inside?"

"Once you tell me what happened."

"He kissed me, alright?" She knows the implications of that. She's the only person who he tells about him and Kurt's bizarre fallacy of a relationship. Not that she is any good at relationships, but at least she can listen. "Now can we move on?"

Except that was the problem. He can't move on.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! _Not _what I expected! Okay, I need more details. What did you do?"

"Nothing. I left. I'm here, aren't I?"

"You _left?_ What the fuck, Blaine?"

He sighes and sits back down on the hood of Santana's car. "Look, it was just a goodbye kiss. It didn't mean anything."

"You should be over there making gay babies with him! You're such a fuckin' moron sometimes -"

"_You think I don't know that?" _He bellows. She doesn't flinch, just raises her eyebrows, making him regret how loudly he'd yelled. Everything has been building up in him all day and he has to let it out somewhere. "I _know _what I am! I'm an idiot, and I'm a coward, and I'm _fucked up, _and he deserves a hell of a lot better than me! He deserves _everything_. All I do is make his life harder. I'm his suicidal, depressed, alcoholic, abusive ex-husband. I wouldn't want me. I _don't _want me. What do I have to offer him? I just take and take and take and I hold him back, and he's _amazing, _he could have anyone he wants -"

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, get _over _yourself, Blaine!" She shouts back, standing up and looming over him. He shrinks back. "He doesn't want _anyone, _he wants _you. _God knows why, but he does. And if you think for one second that he wouldn't have done everything he's done for you if _he _didn't want to, then you really don't know him at all."

"San -"

"All I know is that even after all the bullshit you put each other through, that man _loves _you so much he was willing to give you a second chance, and that's a hell of a lot more than anyone has given me. So get your head out of your ass and stop acting like such a fucking martyr!"

She's breathing heavily by the time she's done, and Blaine is more than a little terrified. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, and she lets out a sharp laugh.

"God, I am gonna miss you and your issues, Blainers."

"Miss me? Where are you going?"

She shrugs. "Dunno. Lima, maybe. Thought I might visit Brittany."

"Santana…"

"Hey, if you won't stop moping over Kurt, you don't get to say shit about me and Brittany." She sighs. "I know nothing is going to happen. But I miss her. That's all."

"I'll miss you."

"Clingy bitch," she mutters, but she lets him hug her, which doesn't happen often, and when he pulls back, she's smiling. "Promise me you'll try to talk to him?"

"I'll try. I just don't want him to get hurt again. It's all I ever do, hurt him."

"Yeah, well that's his risk to take."

He forces himself to smile, but inside he knows she's wrong. Kurt deserves to find someone better, and Blaine deserves to be here, in an apartment he hates. Alone again.

So that's what he'll do.

* * *

><p>Kurt manages to sleep through the phone ringing, but wakes up to the little <em>ding <em>that signals a voicemail. He frowns, but rolls over to pick up the phone and look at the screen.

It's from Blaine.

His heart quickens. It's two in the morning - why would Blaine call? What if he's in trouble? He shakes his head - no point in worrying yet - and opens up the voicemail, holding the phone close to his ear.

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine's voice says softly. He sounds so _tired._ "I just, uh, wanted to let you know that I got here okay. Everything's, you know, okay. So quit worrying. 'Cause I know you are."

Kurt can't help but crack a smile at that. Blaine sighs heavily. "Santana stole my bed, but I can't sleep anyway. It's just… so weird, being here. Naomi said it would be good for me, but… I don't know, Kurt. I guess I just have to give it a chance. But it doesn't feel like home. It never really did. Mostly I just wish I could sleep. But I can't, because you're not here. I'm not sure what to do without you, Kurt. It's so _stupid. _Shouldn't I be able to handle a night away from you? But I don't feel like I can handle anything."

There's a long silence, broken periodically by Blaine's breathing, crackling over the phone. Kurt shuts his eyes tight and lays back, cradling the phone close to his ear. It's not the same as having Blaine next to him.

"Sorry," Blaine mumbles, barely understandable. "Being stupid again. As usual. I don't really know what the point of this message is, just… I wanted you to know that… when I think of home, I don't think of this place. I think of you."

That's the end. Kurt stares at the phone numbly for a little while, feeling like his emotions are taking too long to catch up with him. He wishes they would hurry up so that he can figure out what, exactly, he _is _feeling. He debates calling Blaine back, but in the end fires off a series of texts.

**Kurt:  
><strong>_Sorry I didn't pick up, I was asleep.  
>1. You're not stupid, cut that out. 2. You can do this. I believe in you. 3. You will always have a home to come back to. I promise.<em>

It takes a few minutes, but then the screen lights up again.

**Blaine:  
><strong>_Thank you._

**Kurt:  
><strong>_Anytime._

**Blaine:  
><strong>_Did you really kiss me, or did I dream that?_

Kurt can't help but smile.

**Kurt:  
><strong>_Pretty sure I did._

**Blaine:  
><strong>_Just checking._

Kurt waits, and waits and no more texts come. He frowns. Is that it? Is that all Blaine can say?

Not that it matters. Kurt has spent all night trying to accept that he was too late, that Blaine doesn't want him anymore. That doesn't mean the extra confirmation doesn't hurt. He takes a deep breath.

**Kurt:  
><strong>…_okay, then. Sleep well._

* * *

><p>It's seven days before Blaine is ready to take Amelia again, seven days before he calls. Kurt's heart is in his throat through the entire call. It's short, and stilted, and awkward, and it's mostly his fault - he just doesn't know what to <em>say.<em>

He still doesn't, as he grips Amelia's hand too tight and knocks three times on Blaine's door. "Hi Papa!" Amelia squeals as it opens, letting go of Kurt and throwing herself at him. He scoops her up in his arms without missing a beat, swinging her in a circle as she giggles.

"How's my beautiful baby girl?" He presses a kiss to her cheek, gathering her close and hugging her tight.

"Good. I missed you."

"I missed you too. Come on in, you two." He looks at Kurt for the first time since they arrived, and it makes Kurt's breath catch for some stupid reason. He offers a smile and beckons Kurt in, and not knowing what else to do, he follows.

"Why don't you go put your stuff in your room? I got it nice and cleaned up for you, go see." Blaine sets her down, and she grabs her backpack from where she left it on the floor before darting off down the short hallway.

Kurt avoids looking at Blaine too much by looking around the room. If Blaine cleaned Amelia's room then he must have been on a cleaning frenzy, because the place is practically spotless, compared to the last time Kurt was here. It seems like a lifetime ago now, and the man before him is a completely different person than the one he knew. Of course, no matter how he tries, he always finds himself seeking out Blaine, only to find that he's staring back, so intent and _intense _that Kurt shivers.

"The place looks great," Kurt says, because he doesn't know what else to say. He hadn't realized that it would be like this, seeing Blaine again. That he would feel so… embarrassed.

"Thanks. I'm sorry it took so long. I just wanted it to be perfect, you know? I wanted her to have a good place to come home to."

"I'm sure she'll love it. She loves _you, _so she'll love anything you do for her."

"You say that like she doesn't love you just as much." Kurt just shrugs, and Blaine looks at him incredulously. "Kurt, come on, you don't give yourself enough credit. You're amazing."

"Thank you." He doesn't quite believe it, but it's good to hear. He starts wandering just because there's nothing else to do, absently letting his fingers trail over the back of Blaine's couch (brown leather, a suspicious old stain on one cushion), the smooth glass top of the coffee table, as he looks around the apartment that he never bothered to explore before. There's a framed photograph in black and white on the table. When Kurt leans in to look at it, he recognizes the print as one that Rachel took, just a few days after Amelia was born. It's the two of them, lying in bed, Kurt's eyes closed and his lips slightly parted as he sleeps on Blaine's shoulder. Amelia is bundled up with blankets, a warm little cap on her head, asleep in Blaine's arms while he lies awake and watches her. Kurt exhales shakily and makes himself look away.

Blaine is _still _watching, and Kurt doesn't know how to handle it. Luckily, he doesn't have to think about it much longer, because Blaine _finally _speaks up. "How are you doing?"

"I'm… dealing," Kurt answers, which is not what he'd meant to say at _all. _He'd meant to say that he's good, great even, just as great as he was when Blaine was still home. He'd meant to say that Blaine leaving doesn't change anything, that it doesn't matter, that he's perfectly fine without him. That he doesn't _need _him. "It's fine, I'm, you know. Fine."

And he is, for the most part. Kurt Hummel doesn't wallow. He can pout, and he can dwell, and he will occasionally indulge in a good mope, but he never allows himself to _wallow. _He keeps himself busy every second so that he doesn't have time to think about how Blaine not calling him for a week is just confirmation that Blaine would really rather be out of his life.

"How are you?" Kurt answers when Blaine's only response is to nod. "You look good. Sober."

Blaine nods again, smiling proudly. Kurt can't remember smiles coming to his face that easily a week ago. Still, there's something in his eyes, something not quite right that Kurt doesn't know how to interpret. "Yeah, yeah, I am. Sober, I mean. Still tempted sometimes, but… alcohol doesn't mix well with my medication. So that's sort of a good motivation."

"Are you sleeping alright?"

"Sometimes. Not really. It's okay."

"Blaine."

"What? Stop fussing. I'm fine."

Kurt bites his lip and looks down at his boots. "I… I really hope that you can be happier here. You deserve to be happy." He doesn't look up, hoping that keeping his head down will hide how stupidly upset he feels. And it is stupid. He _does _want Blaine to be happy. So why can't he be happy for him?

It doesn't work. "What's wrong?" Blaine asks softly.

"Nothing! God, nothing's _wrong. _I'm being dumb." He shakes his head. "I just - it's been lonely. Without you. It's nothing."

"I'm sorry -"

"Don't apologize for doing what you needed to do. Don't you dare."

The apartment is silent. Kurt wonders why Amelia isn't back yet - probably listening though the door. Finally, Blaine speaks up again, blurting out, "I miss you, too."

"…Really?"

"Yeah. So let's not be strangers, okay? I won't go that long without calling again. I didn't even mean to, honestly, it's just - settling in, you know? I needed some time."

"God, will you stop apologizing?" In a moment of daring, he steps forward, putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "It's _okay. _You take all the time you need. And when you need me, I'll be there. Aren't I always?" His chest aches when he smiles.

Blaine nods, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "You are," he says, sounding a little choked. He tries his best to smile back. "And you look like you need a hug."

That makes Kurt burst into laughter, for some reason, but he lets Blaine wrap his arms around him. Blaine is the best hugger Kurt has ever known. He gives those full-body hugs that warm you up from head to toe, make you feel safe and wanted and loved. He hadn't known how much he needed that, this week, until right now.

"As long as you're happy," Kurt mumbles, nuzzling his cheek into the soft fabric of Blaine's cashmere sweater. He wonders if it would be creepy to breathe in deep and inhale the smell of Blaine's cologne. Probably. "As long as you're happy, then I'm okay."

Blaine sighs and steps back and letting his hands linger on Kurt's waist for a moment. For a split second, Kurt sees - or imagines - Blaine staring at his lips, but if it happened at all, it's over in the blink of an eye.

Then Amelia is there, tugging on Kurt's hand and dragging him off to show him her room, and he and Blaine don't really have time to talk after that because Amelia is talking too much for all of them. She has to introduce him to all of her stuffed animals, and show him every inch of her room. After the fit she'd thrown when Blaine first left, it's a relief to see that she does like it here after all - he doesn't want her to hate her other home.

Blaine watches the two of them from the doorway, and all the while Kurt is painfully aware of Blaine's eyes on him.

When Amelia finally finishes her very thorough tour, he glances at the clock at winces. He had planned to be home half an hour ago, but as much as he hates that Blaine lives here now, hates the thought of this place, he doesn't want to leave his family behind here.

For weeks after the breakup, Kurt had barely been able to stand being in his own apartment, especially not their bedroom. Everywhere he looked, Blaine was there, Blaine was completely a part of him, and he'd hated it as much as he wanted to hold onto it. Rachel's advice had been to take everything that made him think of Blaine and put it in a box, and hide it in the back of his closet and forget about it. He hadn't done it because there wasn't a single thing he owned that _didn't _remind him of his husband.

It's the same now. He doesn't want to go back to an empty house. There are holes everywhere where Blaine had quietly slipped between the cracks of Kurt's life and then just - took it all away. He'd been worrying about Blaine sleeping but he hadn't expected the change to affect himself, too. His sheets and pillowcase, they both smell like Blaine, and he hadn't even noticed until he was gone. The couch hasn't turned out to be a very good substitute for his bed; he has a near-permanent crick in his neck to show for it.

He gives his daughter a hug and a kiss, promising to call her and wish her good night, and then she's distracted by her room again and forgets about both her parents. Blaine sees him to the door, and suddenly he can't make himself step out the door. He just stands there, not sure what to do, feeling like an idiot.

"So," he says, and has no idea what to say after that. He feels his face heat up.

"Come to dinner with me," Blaine blurts out, and then it's his turn to blush. Kurt blinks. "Um. I mean, would you like to? Have dinner? With me? This Friday? I already asked Rachel to babysit."

He's not sure what that last bit has to do with anything, and has to turn it over in his brain a few times before _oh. _Dinner with Blaine plus Amelia at Rachel's equals dinner with Blaine _alone._

_Not a date_, he had tells himself, but still.

"Dine in or go out?" He asks, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"I'll take you out if you want, but I'd vote for in… my budget is a little short at the moment, I'm afraid." Blaine rubs the back of his flushed neck with his hand, face still red, but Kurt likes the idea of staying in better anyway.

"I'll bring a salad." Kurt grins, a real smile for the first time all day. "I dine at eight."

"Of course." Blaine claps his hands, looking _delighted - _and that's a word Kurt never thought he could describe Blaine with again, _delighted. _"Perfect. Awesome. It's a date."

Kurt waits a beat, but Blaine doesn't go on, doesn't backpedal and stammer over "Um, not a _date _date, you know what I mean". He just leaves it there.

A date. Kurt goes from overwhelmed to giddy.

He drives home with butterflies in his stomach, counting the hours until eight o'clock on Friday night, but despite his excitement, he can't help but think of the look that was on Blaine's face the entire time Kurt was there. Yes, he had smiled, or his mouth had, but it had never once reached his eyes.

There was still something wrong, and Kurt needs to know what.

* * *

><p>Blaine is dressed, shaved, and groomed to perfection - it doesn't matter how many terrible states Kurt has seen him in, he still likes to look nice for Kurt. Kurt <em>cares <em>about things like that. Beauty makes him happy, and well, Blaine likes to see him happy. So he wears that sweater that brings out the green in his eyes, a crisp button up underneath it, and one of his more discreet bowties that he hasn't gotten out in years. He gels his hair - not the helmet he'd had in highschool, Kurt had finally broken him of that - and it makes him look years younger. He looks good. Dinner is in the oven, the apartment is clean, and the most recent text on his phone says '_On my way, need me to pick up anything?' _with a cheery little smiley face that he can't help but grin back at.

Everything is perfect, so why is he so nervous?

It'll be the first time he's spent time alone with Kurt in two weeks, and he doesn't really know what to expect. Or even what his intentions are. He just knows that he misses Kurt, but that thought comes with a twinge of guilt, too. He's so _clingy, _even now. He shouldn't be. He should be better.

Blaine absently picks at the scabs on his palms, scabs over top of pink scars.

He's not getting any better.

The doorbell rings, startling him. He glances at his reflection in the window. There's a smear of marinara sauce on his cheek that has somehow appeared in the last ten minutes since he checked his reflection. He grabs a napkin and rubs at the spot before he takes a deep breath and goes to the door.

"Hey!" He says, plastering on a grin. Kurt looks _perfect _in a slim, thigh-length white sweater crisscrossed with various zippers and buttons that probably don't have any use, and tightly laced boots. His hair is tall and artfully tousled, and he puts Blaine's simple ensemble to shame. He's always done that.

Kurt grins back and holds up the covered bowl in his hands. "Salad, as promised! I'm starving, by the way."

Blaine acts on impulse, pulling Kurt into a quick, friendly hug. _Friendly, _he tells himself, even though all he wants is to kiss him like he should have weeks ago. That's all it is, because they're _friends. _Friends hug all the time.

"You look beautiful," Blaine hears himself say as he steps back, and then shuts his eyes, face heating up.

Friends _don't _say that.

Kurt blinks up at him. "Oh," he says weakly, and then clears his throat. "Smells delicious in here, need help with anything?"

"No, the lasagna is already in the oven, should only take another minute." He doesn't admit that he'd tried to time this perfectly to avoid too many awkward silences. "Is lasagna okay? I guess I should have asked -"

"Lasagna is _perfect," _Kurt assures him. "Oh, you have…" he points to his own cheek, and Blaine rolls his eyes and rubs at the smear of sauce he'd _still _managed to miss. Just great.

Kurt hands him the bowl of salad, which Blaine takes and sets in the center of the coffee table. He hears Kurt's breath catch. He'd laid two cushions on the floor on either side of the short table, and set it with his best dishes (best in that they aren't paper plates, which is what he usually goes with when he doesn't get take-out.) He'd even taken a glass and put a single flower in a glass of water and set it in the middle to complete the look, but decided to stop just short of candles. Even this is probably too heavy-handed. When he glances back, Kurt's eyes are wide as he stares the table.

Blaine blushes again, shifting back and forth uncomfortably. "I don't have a real table," he mumbles. "Is it too much? It's too much."

"It's perfect," Kurt says softly. "You… you didn't have to put in all this effort just for me."

"Of course I did." If anyone deserves a little effort it's Kurt, but then, Kurt should get way more than this.

"Blaine…" Kurt trails off. Blaine lifts his eyes to meet Kurt's, and wonders if he could get away with doing nothing but stare into Kurt's eyes for the rest of his life. There are still so many colors he hasn't gotten to name yet.

_What am I doing here? _Blaine wonders. What does he think this is going to accomplish? It's still not enough. Nothing he does will be enough.

A shrill beeping makes Kurt jump, and Blaine yells, "_Shit, _fucking _fuck," _before running to the kitchen, waving his hands at the smoke detector as the smell of burning food fills the room. "I'm so sorry, this fucking oven, I swear to god…"

In the end it's not as bad as it sounded or smelled, the edges are just a little blackened. Blaine still can't stop apologizing, until Kurt laughs and says, "Blaine, honey, it's really not a big deal," to which Blaine blushes and stares down at his plate. They eat around the black parts, and the lasagna still tastes fine, if the way Kurt raves about it is anything to go by. After a while, they fall into silence except for the sound of chewing until their plates are clean.

Kurt wipes his mouth delicately on his napkin and sets his silverware on his plate. "So," he asks softly, "how are you doing, Blaine?"

Blaine freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth. He doesn't have an answer. Not a satisfactory one. He sets the fork down, unable to meet Kurt's eyes. "It's… that's not an easy question to answer," he says carefully.

"I don't need an easy answer. You know you can still talk to me, right? If you want to."

"It's hard… being alone, it's… easy to let the bad thoughts get to you. But I'm trying. And you know, I'm sure it'll be good. Eventually." He scratches at his palm. Eventually can't come soon enough.

"Are you happy?" Kurt asks after a moment of silence.

How that, that one simple question, can make Blaine feel like he's falling apart. _No, _he thinks, clenching his hands into fists, unable to speak. _Of course I'm not, I'm not happy, why can't I just be happy already, I hate this, I hate it, I hate -_

"Blaine?" Kurt sounds worried. "Are you okay?"

He can't answer, doesn't know what he would say if he could, he would probably just end up crying anyway so he shakes his head and stays silent. He's only half-aware of the beginnings of sharp pain in his hands, but he doesn't try to stop it.

"Oh god, you're not okay." Kurt's voice sounds like it's coming from far away, even when he's suddenly sitting close. Blaine hears a sound escape him, tiny and pathetic. Kurt's hands close around his fists, his fingers so gentle, rubbing and massaging at Blaine's stiff hands. "Don't, honey, please, don't," he begs, sounds close to tears and that makes it even worse. _I'm sorry, _Blaine wants to say, but all that comes out is a sob.

Panic attack, a distant part of his mind informs him, cold and clinical. He doesn't know why he's panicking. He doesn't understand why this is still happening to him, why he has to keep making Kurt deal with this. Why he can't just be okay.

His fists start to uncurl under Kurt's ministrations, and he's vaguely relieved to see that he hadn't managed to break the skin again. "Can you talk to me?" Kurt asks. Blaine shakes his head. "Look at me?" _No, _he tries to say but just ends up sobbing again, _pathetic, _and Kurt murmurs "Oh, Blaine," before he wraps an arm around Blaine's shoulders, pulling him close. His body is so warm. It's the only good thing Blaine can feel right now.

Blaine loses track of how long he cries - he feels oddly detached from it all, like he's watching this happen to someone he doesn't know, and he can't help but be grateful for that, at least. Kurt holds him the whole time, keeps his hands moving, stroking up and down his arms, and murmurs, "Shh, shh, you're going to be okay," every time a particularly violent sob shakes him.

It takes a while, but eventually Blaine comes back to himself, the panic easing away and leaving him feeling limp, heavy in Kurt's arms. He must look like such a mess in his fancy clothes and slick hair and puffy, tear-stained face.

He takes a deep breath and pulls back a little, sniffling and wiping at his eyes, but Kurt doesn't let him go far. "I'm sorry," he croaks. Sorry that Kurt has to deal with this, even after Blaine is gone. Sorry for everything that brought them here.

Kurt shakes his head. "Don't be, it's okay," he says, even though it's not. He cups Blaine's cheek in his hand, making him keep eye contact. Blaine just wants to disappear. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Blaine's breath shudders through him. "It just… hasn't been a good day."

"How long has it been since you had a good day?"

Blaine counts back in his head how many days it's been since Kurt came over to drop off Amelia. "Um… four days. I didn't mean to freak out. So stupid."

Kurt holds him a little tighter. "Can you talk about it?"

Blaine hesitates. He knows they have to, he even _wants _to but he feels like the gray-green walls of this apartment are suffocating him and Kurt is the only oxygen in the room. He can't even think about what he needs to say. "Could… could we go home first? I don't want to be here."

Kurt kisses his forehead and whispers, "Okay."

_Home._


	22. The Only Place That I Call Home pt 2

So here we are.

Mostly I just want to say thank you so, so much to everyone who has stuck with this story since the beginning, everyone who's even taken a glance at it, everyone who has reviewed or reccomended this fic. Thank you. I honestly can't believe the reception this has gotten, and I honestly have cried after posting every chapter because of the sweet reviews that you've left, telling me how much this story affected you. Honestly, if it touched even one person, then I feel like I've achieved something here. All of your reviews and your wonderful messages on Tumblr are what kept me writing this. I've never finished a multi-chapter fic before, and I honestly never thought this one would get so huge.

I do plan on writing more in this 'verse, for those who have asked - I'm wanting to do a series of drabbles, but who knows how it will work out. Don't know when it'll happen, but I still have ideas. In fact, if any of you feel like dropping by my ask box on tumblr, you can feel free to leave me prompts, if there's anything in particular you would like to see. Can't promise I'll write it, but maybe it'll spark some inspiration!

So, again: Thank you so, so much for everything. I love you all so much, and I'm so glad to have shared this with you. It's been amazing. (No I'm not crying what are you talking about…)

**Warnings: **Sex of the homo kind. And Botttom!Blaine, since the last time I wrote it I got hate for it. Which is extremely lame.

* * *

><p>Halfway through the drive home, Blaine starts talking. Once he starts, he can't seem to stop.<p>

"I just hate being there so much," he whispers. Kurt's grip on his hand tightens. He hasn't let go the entire drive, and the contact seems to be soothing for Blaine. "I hate being away from Amelia. And you."

"Then don't stay there, Blaine." Kurt glances over at him, breath catching at the way the shadows play across his face, before he quickly looks back to the road, taking the turn that leads to his apartment. "Didn't I tell you that you could come back anytime you wanted? You could show up in the middle of the night with no explanation and I would still take you in." He lets go of Blaine's hand for a moment to park the car before he reaches out to take it again.

"But you deserve better than that." He slumps back in the seat and closes his eyes, then shakes his head and climbs out of the car. Kurt follows suit. Blaine hadn't bothered to grab a coat, and Kurt can see him shivering in the cold, early-spring air.

"Come on, let's get you inside." Kurt reaches for his hand again automatically, and Blaine takes it without even looking as they make their way up the stairs.

The instant they step inside Blaine starts to unwind. Kurt can _see _it, once he slips on the light, every tensed muscle relaxing as he looks around. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea…?"

"Coffee would be nice." He takes a seat at one of the barstools, and Kurt can feel his eyes on him, even when his back is turned. "Sorry I ruined dinner."

"Don't worry about that." They fall back into silence. Kurt watches the coffee brew, and he can feel Blaine's eyes on him the whole time. He fixes Blaine's coffee just the way he likes it, black with too much sugar and a sprinkle of cinnamon, and passes it over to Blaine before taking a seat himself. Blaine mumbles his thanks, holding the mug up to his nose and breathing in deep.

"That place really was bad for you, wasn't it?" Kurt says softly, stirring a bit of cream into his own coffee.

"Yeah." Blaine looks away, acting very interested in the countertop.

"Was it bad memories, or…?"

Blaine shrugs. "I guess. And I just felt so… isolated. And Naomi said it would be good, to learn to be independent again, and maybe it was, but -"

"Anything that makes you feel that bad can't be _good _for you."

"Isn't that what I deserve?"

Kurt chokes on his coffee and sets the cup down. He stares at Blaine, the words slowly sinking in. "Is… is that what this was about? Some way for you to keep _punishing_ yourself?" Blaine hunches his shoulders, staring down into his coffee cup. "_Fuck, _Blaine!"

"After everything I did to you -"

"Stop! This is _absurd._" Kurt reaches across the table, grabbing the hand that isn't holding onto the cup.

Blaine looks away. "I - I just need you to know how sorry I am," he whispers. "For all of it. And that I'm going to do everything I can to make this okay."

"Making yourself miserable isn't making anything okay! You don't have to do _anything, _Blaine, especially not this. _I forgive you._"

"But -"

"You aren't a bad person, you just… lost yourself along the way." He blushes, knowing that he stole that line right from Naomi, and hopes that Blaine doesn't notice it. "That's not who you are, not anymore. Isn't it enough that I forgive you?"

Blaine shakes his head, eyes shining with tears. "I can't do this to you again. Everything I do makes your life miserable, I just ruin _everything -_"

"If that were true, I wouldn't be here with you right now, would I? I don't bother with people who aren't worth it." To his surprise, Blaine lets out a soft laugh, but he doesn't ask why. "Sweetheart, look at me."

It takes a moment, but he does, meeting Kurt's eyes. The look on his face is so familiar. Kurt has seen it a hundred times in all these years together.

_I was so proud of you._

_I hope so. I want you to be. _

The weakest attempt at a smile, like he's trying so hard to believe it but can't - can't accept that someone could love him like this, that he could ever be worthy of it. Kurt had spent a lot of years angry at Blaine, but he's never hated him the way Blaine seems to hate himself.

"I _love_ you," Kurt says, and Blaine swallows back his tears. It shocks Kurt, how easy it is to say, how simple it is. Of course he loves Blaine. Nothing could change that, nothing, it's what he was made for, every inch of his body was made to love every inch of Blaine, and the hard part was just realizing that it's _okay _to love him. "You don't believe me, and that's okay. But I do. I love you, even the not-so-nice parts, and I forgive you. So now, you just have to forgive yourself. And learn to love yourself a little. I'll help you, if you want me."

He shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I don't deserve this, I don't deserve you -"

"_Blaine._"

"You should be with someone who isn't such a fuckup -"

"I'm pretty fucked up myself, but it isn't _about _that." He reaches out with his other hand to cradle Blaine's cheek, his thumb swiping over Blaine's cheekbone even though there aren't any tears to wipe away. "It's not a competition; it's not about who got more screwed up. That doesn't matter. What matters is that we found each other again. If you still feel the same way, that is."

"I do," Blaine says, looking up at Kurt shyly, and Kurt is struck dizzy by memories of the last time Blaine said that to him, while looking at him like that, as they slipped rings onto each other's fingers. He squeezes Kurt's hand. "I… I never stopped loving you."

Kurt has his doubts about that, but this isn't the time or place to voice them. He's sure that there was a time during the worst of it that Blaine hadn't been capable of loving anyone - if he had, he wouldn't have been able to do what he did. Kurt can't say it doesn't matter - it does, always will - but that, he realizes, is what forgiveness is for.

He'll never forget it. And maybe that will make things harder. But he can accept what can't be changed, and move on.

"Me too," Kurt says with a smile. "So what's the big deal?"

It's just as much a question for himself as it is for Blaine. It's just so _easy. Why didn't I do this weeks ago? _He sort of hates himself for waiting so long.

The sound Blaine makes is somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and Kurt's smile widens. That, at least, is one thing he can be sure of. The things Blaine did wouldn't have hurt as much as they did if Kurt hadn't loved him still, every step of the way. "Whatever happens to us, whether we're together forever or not - you're the love of my life. It feels so good to be able to say that."

Blaine does cry, then, one tear trickling down his cheek and catching on Kurt's hand, even as he smiles. "I'm sorry I didn't kiss you back -"

"Blaine Hummel-Anderson, if you say sorry to me one more time tonight I swear to god - _mmph."_

Blaine's lips cover his without any warning, his hand wrapping around the back of Kurt's neck to tug him close as he leans across the counter. It's open-mouthed and messy, teeth clacking together until Kurt shifts and suddenly it's _perfect_. His lips are soft, and his tongue warm and wet when it flicks out to meet Kurt's, and he tastes like coffee and salty tears. The angle threatens to break Kurt's neck, though, and he has to pull back far sooner than he would like.

Blaine blinks, looking a little dazed, his eyes blown wide and his lips slick and red. Gorgeous. "_Fuck," _Kurt whispers. He nearly knocks his stool over in his haste to get over to Blaine, cupping both cheeks in his hands and tilting his chin up to kiss him again. Blaine hand flails at his side as he reaches up to Kurt, knocking his coffee cup to the floor. It shatters, and he pulls back with a gasp.

"Shit, sorry -"

"Leave it," Kurt breathes, grabbing Blaine's wrist and pulling him up. He can't think about a broken mug right now, not when all his thoughts are _need you want you love you, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine._

Blaine follows him without question, threading his fingers through Kurt's as they walk together down the hall. Somehow it feels like miles, the walk to Kurt's room, but finally they make it, shutting the door behind them.

He expects to feel nervous - and there is that - or unsure, but he isn't. It's just them, and they've been in this position a hundred times before. So it's second nature to tilt Blaine's chin up and capture his lips in another kiss, soft and gentle, none of the urgency of the first - they have all night. Maybe even forever.

Blaine's fingers tangle in the hair at the back of Kurt's neck, and he can't even be bothered to snap at Blaine for messing it up when it feels so good to be touched that way. He teases his tongue at the seam of Blaine's lips, and they part effortlessly, both of them gasping for breath before diving right back into the kiss. Warm and wet and slow, savoring every sensation, every touch.

They don't move apart even when they have to pull back for air, touching their foreheads together and letting their breath mingle between them. "Kurt," Blaine sighs.

"I'm sorry I took so long. So stupid. No wonder you gave up on me."

"Shh. If I don't get to apologize, neither do you." At some point, his other hand had come to rest on Kurt's chest, and now he fiddles with one of the zippers on Kurt's sweater "C-can I?"

"Yes," Kurt whispers. It takes a little manuvering to get him out of it, and Kurt disolves into giggles more than once at how difficult it is to get the damn thing off, but they finally manage it. He stops Blaine before he can go to unzip his jeans. "You, too."

He slips his fingers underneath the hem of Blaine's sweater, pulling it up and over his head, and making quick work of the button-up underneath. "So gorgeous," he breathes, staring unabashedly at Blaine' bare chest. He reaches out to touch, but suddenly Blaine recoils, trying and failing to cover up his arms. "Hey, hey…"

"They're horrible," Blaine mumbles, trying his best, but the scars up and down his arms are impossible to hide. Kurt's just glad that there are no fresh scars. "You shouldn't look at them."

Kurt grabs his wrist, pulling his arms away from his chest. Without looking away from Blaine's eyes, he presses light kisses to his wrists, up his arm. The skin feels strange underneath his lips, but he doesn't stop. "You're beautiful. And they're part of you." He whispers against the thin skin of Blaine's wrists. Blaine shudders. "So they're beautiful too."

Blaine doesn't stop him from touching anywhere after that.

His hands smooth over muscle and skin and bone, and his lips glide over nipples and collarbones and pulse points, everywhere he can reach, and Blaine trembles almost violently at every touch. He's still doesn't stop, never wants to - he'll spend forever showing Blaine how beautiful he is, how loved.

"Kurt," Blaine whispers into Kurt's neck, his lips against Kurt's skin like a caress. It seems to be the only word he can say. "_Kurt_."

"What do you need?" Kurt presses kisses up the column of his neck, that spot behind his ear, and Blaine's breath goes harsh. "Anything. Let me take care of you." Kisses his lips, revels in the fact that he _can _and Blaine drinks it in, gripping Kurt tight and holding him close. There's too much teeth, not enough tongue, and it might be one of the best kisses Kurt has ever had. "Just tell me."

In the beginning of their relationship, they had both been nervous about telling the other what they wanted, blushing and stammering through words they didn't quite understand yet. There had been a lot of missteps along the way, and he remembers every one fondly now. But communication was key, and they had worked through it no matter how awkward. Now there is no hesitation in Blaine's voice when he says, "Fuck me?"

"Yes, _yes,_" Kurt breathes out against Blaine's lips before capturing them again. Always yes.

Blaine hasn't let him do this, not for a while - not the whole time they were sleeping together without really being _together. _Thought they didn't talk about it, it struck Kurt as odd, because there have been times in their lives when Blaine _always _wanted to bottom. He thinks it's something to do with vulnerability. Letting Kurt see him exposed and open, letting Kurt have all the control.

They don't stop kissing as they stumble back toward the bed, Blaine's knees hitting the edge and buckling. He hits the mattress with a soft thump and pulls Kurt down with him, Kurt swinging a leg over to straddle his waist. He gasps, finally breaking the kiss, when he feels Blaine already hard underneath him. Just the feeling sends a rush of heat straight to Kurt's cock, straining against his tight jeans. "Blaine," he groans, bending down to kiss him again. It's still such a novelty to do so.

"I want you," Blaine says between quick, firm kisses, his hands coming down to cup Kurt's ass, pulling him closer. Kurt rolls his hips down, making Blaine moan into his mouth. He tries to shove Kurt's pants down without unbuttoning them, and growls in frustration when he can't. "Kurt -"

"_Yes_." He sits up again, shivering at the wet sound their lips make when they separate. He gets his pants and boxer-briefs off as quickly as he can manage, tossing them across the room to lay over his desk chair, and then does the same to Blaine. The air is chilly on his suddenly bare skin, but Blaine's hands are hot when they skim down his chest, one curling around his cock.

He groans and thrusts forward into Blaine's loose fist as it strokes up and down, trying to get more friction. "God, I love you. Wanna fuck you."

"Do it, then," Blaine says, though he doesn't seem eager to let go of Kurt's cock any time soon. Kurt bats his hand away - whimpering a little at the loss - and scrambles up the bed, pulling open the drawer on his bedside table to find the lube and condoms. When he does, he turns back around and forgets how to breathe. Blaine is on his hands and knees, watching Kurt, just laid out and waiting for him. He thought he couldn't get any harder, but apparently, he was wrong. It almost hurts not being buried inside of Blaine already, being so close that all he can breathe is Blaine. He squeezes around the base of his cock to relieve the pressure, but it doesn't do much to help.

"You're amazing," he whispers. He would say perfect, once he would have, but it's not true. Blaine isn't perfect, neither of them are, but he is incredible. Perfectly imperfect. He skims one dry finger over Blaine's hole. Blaine hums, spreading his legs that little bit further. "I love you, and you're mine, and I'm never letting you go again, okay? Never."

"Never," Blaine agrees. Kurt uncaps the lube - and it will never stop being awkward, doing this one handed - and dribbles some over his fingers. He lets a little drip over the crack of Blaine's ass, sliding down, and he sees a shiver going down Blaine's spine. "Kurt…"

He slips one finger in up to the knuckle, making Blaine gasp, but not in pain. He keeps going, as far as he can, and once Blaine has a moment to adjust, he pulls back out and pushes in again, and again, loving the tight drag around his finger. He waits until Blaine is squirming, trying to fuck himself on Kurt's finger, before he slips in a second. He kisses the base of Blaine's spine as he stretches and searches, and when Blaine cries out at the brush of Kurt's fingertips against a certain spot, he grins.

"'m ready," Blaine moans, twisting around to look at Kurt. "Need you."

"I don't want to hurt you," Kurt says, starting to slip in a third finger.

"I - I want you to." Kurt freezes, eyes widening as he looks at Blaine, who immediately adds, "Not in a bad way, I just - it's okay, if you're a little rough. I know you don't like to hurt me, I just - I think I need it, a little."

He doesn't understand, but then, there's a lot about Blaine he doesn't understand. He kisses Blaine's spine again and murmurs, "Okay, if you're sure," and starts to pull his fingers out, stretching him out as much as he can with only two. Blaine squirms when he's finally empty, turning his head to watch Kurt again. He doesn't say anything as Kurt rolls on a condom and slicks himself up with more lube than is probably necessary. Kurt hates that they have to use them, or maybe more than that he hates that they've both been with other people. He's clean, but Blaine might not be, and it's not a conversation he wants to have right now. They'll just have to deal with the condom for now.

He squeezes Blaine's hip, rubbing it soothingly as he lines himself up. It's all he can do not to thrust right in as he pushes himself inside, Blaine's jumbled whispers of _fuck Kurt oh my god _making him ache. But he takes it slow, still worried about hurting Blaine, until he's buried completely inside. He leans over Blaine to press gentle kisses to the back of his neck, wrapping his arms around Blaine's broad chest as he drapes himself across Blaine, chest to back. It's so close and so hot that Kurt could cry.

"Okay?" He whispers in Blaine's ear. Blaine nods, eyes fluttering closed. Kurt pulls out until only the head of his cock stays inside of Blaine and then snaps his hips forward, jolting Blaine up on the bed and making him cry out.

"Fuck!" he groans. Kurt does it again, and again and again, the tight heat of Blaine too much to resist, picking up the speed of his thrusts as he kisses Blaine's neck and back and shoulders, licking and biting lightly as he goes. Blaine's arms tremble and then collapse, and he presses his face into the pillow and arches his back, making Kurt sink even deeper inside. "_Harder_."

Every time Kurt thinks it has to be too much, that he's fucking Blaine too hard and slows down to give him a break, Blaine shakes his head and says it again: "Harder, Kurt, _please," _until Kurt is slamming into him, skin slapping against skin almost drowning out the sound of Blaine's moans. Sounds pour from Kurt's lips, mostly wordless moans but sometimes words, and he's only half-aware that he's saying them at all. "Fuck, Blaine, you're so good," he gasps into Blaine's ear. Blaine whimpers. "So tight around me. I love you so much, beautiful - ohh _fuck…"_

It seems like a miracle that Blaine hasn't come yet with the way he pushes himself back to meet Kurt at every thrust. Kurt reaches around and grasps Blaine's cock, thick and heavy between his legs. He comes just like that, with Kurt's hand wrapped tight around him, muffling his cries into to pillow.

"Don't stop," Blaine begs when he can finally make words again. Kurt isn't surprised; the oversensitivity is one of Blaine's favorite parts of this and Kurt loves the way it makes him sound.

"Can you come again?" Kurt asks, hips rocking shallowly back and forth. He's close, has been close for what feels like forever, but he thinks he could hold off to see Blaine come again. He nibbles lightly at Blaine's earlobe as he whispers, "Want me to keep fucking you till you come again?"

"_Kurt_…" It's as good as a yes. They're not as young as they used to be, but that's okay, it just means they have better stamina.

"Turn over for me." One last kiss to the back of his neck, where an impressive hickey is starting to form. He sits back, pulling out completely, and takes a moment to admire the view: Blaine's ass stretched out for him, a little red and probably sore, as he shifts to lie on his back. He's even prettier like this, now that Kurt can see his face, the look on it almost apprehensive until Kurt kisses it away. He isn't hard anymore, but he will be.

It's easier to push himself inside this time, after he settles in between Blaine's legs, pulling them up to wrap around his waist. He goes slow anyway, savoring it. "Harder -" Blaine starts to say, but Kurt interrupts him with another kiss.

"Slow down," he murmurs. His way, this time. "We have all the time in the world."

Blaine whines as Kurt starts to move, thrusting in and out slowly. He shuts his eyes and turns away, like he's trying to hide himself, even bringing the hand that isn't gripping the sheets beside him up to cover his eyes, but Kurt grabs it and holds in down into the mattress before he cups Blaine's cheeks with both hands, holding him still and forcing him to look at Kurt. He closes his eyes again.

"Blaine," Kurt whispers. He rolls his hips forward and back almost lazily, and Blaine's legs tighten around Kurt's waist. "Open your eyes, Blaine. Look at me?"

He shakes his head, but blinks his eyes open, looking into Kurt's. They're bright and glassy, pupils blown wide, and he never looks more beautiful than when he's like this. "Kurt," he whispers, voice wavering. "Kurt, Kurt, _Kurt…_

Kurt doesn't break eye contact, not once, and Blaine squirms against him, breathing heavily. There's no urgency now, just pleasure rolling over Kurt in waves. He likes to fuck Blaine hard, but he _loves _to fuck Blaine like this, tender slow enough to feel like they're floating, like they're dreaming. It's not easy for Blaine - why, Kurt doesn't know, Blaine never wants to talk about it - but it's still good, still _perfect, _he insists. He loses track of how long they go on for. Time ceases to matter, the only thing he knows is that Blaine is here with him, and that fact alone is earth-shattering.

"I love you," Kurt says, his thumb stroking over Blaine's cheek as a tear trickles down. Blaine lets out a sob, shutting his eyes tight. "Blaine?" He tries to stop, starting to panic, but Blaine shakes his head.

"Don't go," Blaine gasps out, shutting his eyes tight and grabbing ahold of Kurt, keeping him close. Another tear pools at the corner of his eye. His cock is hard again and leaking against his stomach, but neither of them touch it except when Blaine thrusts his hips up to let it drag against the soft skin of Kurt's belly. He writhes at every brush of skin against skin, a constant stream of _ah, ah, ah's _spilling from his mouth as his head thrashes back and forth against the pillow. "God, _Kurt…_ don't leave, please…"

"I'm right here, baby, I'm not going anywhere." He speeds up, can't help it - it's been building up for so long now, and he can't hold back much longer, he has to come soon or he thinks he might shatter to pieces. But not before Blaine. "Can you come again, Blaine?"

"Oh _god_…"

"It's okay, you're okay. Come for me…" He surges forward, kissing Blaine hard on the lips, and Blaine kisses back until he freezes, mouth falling open against Kurt's, choking out a cry as he comes again without even being touched, all over their chests. His hands spasm, squeezing hard at Kurt's shoulders.

"Kurt," Blaine sobs, "Love you, _fuck _I love you so much -" and he can't last, not after that, not with Blaine clenching tight around his cock, and he stills deep inside of Blaine and comes hard, pressing his face into the crook of Blaine's neck.

After that, the only sound is heavy breathing, hot against each other's skin. Blaine's fingers tangle in Kurt's hair, stroking over his scalp.

He doesn't want to move, but eventually Kurt has to, pulling out of Blaine - they both hiss, _way _too oversensitive now, tremors of leftover pleasure fizzling their way up Kurt's spine - and disposing of the condom as quickly as he can. He should shower, at least drag himself to the bathroom and find a cloth to wipe themselves down with, but he takes one look at Blaine and the sleepy eyes watching him and all thought of leaving flies out the window, stickiness be damned. "Don't cry," he whispers, pressing a kiss to Blaine's cheek before he settles back down, lying on top of Blaine and smiling when he sighs and snuggles close. "You're okay. Don't cry."

"I feel like we should talk," Blaine whispers, voice raw and ragged, his arms wrapping around Kurt. "But I have no idea what to say."

Kurt yawns. He can already feel himself starting to drift off. "Talk tomorrow. Sleep now."

Blaine hums, and Kurt sits up just enough to plant a kiss just above Blaine's heart before he lays his head down there. One night together isn't going to change everything. They still have tomorrow to deal with, and every day after that, Kurt hopes for the rest of their lives.

But right now, he's warm and sated and happier than he's been in a long time, and Blaine is home. Blaine is there with him, and the steady thumping of his heart is like a lullaby and a promise that they'll be okay, and a reminder that Blaine is here, and alive, and _his._

Whatever happens, they'll be okay.

* * *

><p>"No, everything's fine, I'm just at Kurt's for the day… thank you, Rachel. Thank you so much. Uh-huh. I'll see you soon."<p>

Blaine hangs up the phone, letting it fall into his lap as he leans back into the couch and closes his eyes for a moment. It's early still, too early to be awake, but he loves this time of morning He has a mug of coffee in front of him and he's wearing a stolen pair of those flannel pajama pants Kurt will never admit to owning, and the sun is trying to rise over the skyline. It's quiet, and peaceful, and it gives Blaine a moment to breathe.

He hasn't been able to breathe like this since he left, but now his lungs are full of Kurt.

Footsteps make Blaine open his eyes, turning his head to see. Kurt stands at the edge of the room, blinking sleep from his eyes. He looks tiny in that ridiculous fluffy robe that he loves so much, tiny and young and just like the boy Blaine fell in love with. His hair sticks out in all directions, stiff with all the product he hadn't washed out the night before, and the side of his face is a little red where it was pressed into his pillow. And he's the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing Blaine has even seen, every angle of his face so lovely it hurts to look at it.

"Morning," Kurt says quietly, looking a perfect mix of fear and relief that make Blaine's heart flip-flop. He'd meant to crawl back into bed before Kurt woke up, but he'd gotten distracted by coffee and calling Rachel and the sunrise. He wonders if Kurt had thought he'd left for good.

"Hey," Blaine says. "Sorry, I was just making a phone call, I didn't want to wake you up. Um, I told Rachel she could bring Amelia over here instead. At around noon, if that's okay with you."

"S'fine. Oh, she's going to be so happy you're here." Kurt smiles, absently rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. Blaine thinks of the look on Amelia's face and can't help but smile too. All of them back together again.

"Mhm. And I made coffee."

"Oh my god. Can I keep you?"

"Yes," Blaine says, entirely serious though Kurt was probably trying to me funny. He blushes, and Kurt's mouth falls open a little and he blushes too, but the tiny grin that appears on his face is worth the moment of embarrassment.

"Um." Kurt laughs softly, looking away. "Whuh-" He pauses to yawn, big and loud and Blaine's heart just _melts. _"What time izzit? He asks, words slurring together, god he's just adorable, sometimes. All the time. Blaine is fully aware that he's acting like a teenage boy. He doesn't care. It makes him feel something like happy.

"Um… about seven."

Kurt's face scrunches up; again, just… adorable. "Gross. Come back here."

He goes to follow Kurt, assuming they're going back to bed, but instead he gets pulled into a hug, the fluff of Kurt's robe tickling his bare chest. Blaine wraps his arms tight around Kurt's neck and lets himself melt into the touch as Kurt's hands rub broad, smooth circles across his back, and he tucks his face into Kurt's neck where he fits so perfectly, and just… breathes. Kurt hasn't showered yet, and though Blaine had cleaned his come off Kurt's chest with a wet cloth while he wriggled and stretched happily in his sleep, he still smells sort of musky, like sweat and sex. He smells like _them. _Blaine shudders and tries to squirm closer, and thinks, _Home._

"I'm so glad you're here," Kurt whispers in his ear, his breath raising goosebumps on Blaine's neck. His voice is rough, from sleepiness or emotion Blaine can't tell. He sounds the way Blaine feels, wrung out, made to feel every emotion possible in too short a time. Taken apart and put back together with tragically gentle hands. It was a good thing, the best thing, but so exhausting.

Blaine shuts his eyes tight and burrows closer, as if he could live inside this man's skin in he got close enough. Kurt's robe has slipped open and he's gloriously naked underneath. He doesn't need more than this, though, not right now. This hug is everything good in the world, Kurt cradling Blaine with his entire body. It's so warm. He feels safe here, and more than anything, loved.

Because Kurt loves him.

He still isn't sure why, or if he completely believes it - but _Kurt _believes it, and that's what's important, really.

"Me too," he mumbles.

"I thought you had left."

"Never."

"Never?"

"Not if you don't want me to."

Kurt hums, pulling back far enough to look into Blaine's face, to stare at Blaine's lips long enough that he's ready to be kissed, but it doesn't come. His eyes flicker back up to meet Blaine's. "Then don't go."

That's good. Blaine doesn't know if he could survive walking out of Kurt's life again, it's like walking out of his own life too - everything he is is part of Kurt. He'd thought he didn't know who he was without booze, without depression, but after these past weeks… no, that's not right at all. He just doesn't know who he is without Kurt. When the last twelve years of his life have been spent with Kurt, he doesn't think that's so strange."

"What are you thinking about?" Kurt asks softly, brushing a lock of hair behind Blaine's ear.

"Not much."

"Share with the class?"

"I was... thinking that I could be happy."

"Could be?"

"Will be," he corrects. The more he says it, the truer becomes. Naomi had challenged him to tell himself that at least once a day: _I will be happy. _Sometimes it helps. "I'm not all better yet, I know that… and maybe I never will be. But I think I'm getting there."

"I'm glad." Kurt's voice is wavering, now, and no, he absolutely cannot start crying, if he cries then Blaine will cry and he is so, so _sick _of tears. He tilts his head to kiss Kurt once, soft and brief on the lips, and when he pulls away, Kurt is smiling and his eyes are dry. He laughs softly, resting his hand flat on Blaine's cheek. "God. What are we doing here, Blaine?"

Blaine closes his eyes, leaning into the touch of Kurt's hand. "I don't know, I have no idea, I just know I want it." Kurt laughs again, but Blaine knows it's not to make fun of him. "I want _you. _And I want to be a family again, you and me and Amelia."

"Me too, god, I want all of it. Everything I said last night was true." There goes his voice again, all wobbly. He steps back far enough to sit down on the couch, straightening out his bathrobe before he grabs Blaine's hand tugs him down with him. Blaine tries not to be disappointed at this new lack of nakedness as he cuddles up on Kurt's chest, their legs tangling underneath them. It's too cramped, but neither of them moves even though they easily could. "There was a 'but' at the end of that sentence, wasn't there?" Kurt asks, raising his eyebrows.

Blaine sighs. "Yeah."

"Might as well talk it all out while we're sleepy and overemotional, right? Or is that just me?" Kurt presses a quick kiss to Blaine's cheek before he leans back again. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

"Don't be." Blaine smiles, but it doesn't last long.

"C'mon, tell me what's up."

"Just… what if, after everything that happened, we can't make it work?

"Blaine."

"In my head, I'm always going to be the person that hurt you, and I don't _want _to me. I never want to hurt you again."

"You won't."

"But I could."

"I won't let you."

Blaine bites his lip, looking away. "I'm just so scared I'm going to ruin everything."

Kurt tucks his fingers under Blaine's chin, gentle but firm, making Blaine look back up at him. "I would rather try and fail," he says softly, "than give up now and live knowing that we _could _have had something amazing.

Blaine shuts his eyes tight. He's been holding back for so long, fighting this because he didn't believe he could have it, or that he deserved it. It's time to stop hiding. "Me too. We'll make it work. We'll be okay."

The press of Kurt's lips surprises him, and for half a second he forgets to kiss back. "That's more like it," Kurt whispers as he pulls away, laughing softly when Blaine tries to chase his lips. He has _years'_ worth of kisses he has to make up for missing, after all. "So, to be clear: we can agree that we're going to give this a shot?"

"God, yes. And if it doesn't work…" _it will, _he tells himself, _it will work, but what if…_

"Then no hard feelings, I hope. We'll be friends who happen to have a kid, just like before. Wouldn't be the weirdest thing to happen to us."

"That's true." The silence goes on until Blaine says quietly, "Why do I still feel like I'm not allowed to have this?"

Maybe Kurt had a point, after the punishment thing - he hadn't wanted to hear it, last night, but now he makes himself think about it. Maybe Kurt was right, and he _had _been punishing himself by drinking, by hurting himself… and now by distancing himself from Kurt and saying it's for his own good. He's not sure how to _stop, _isn't even sure he doesn't deserve it, but…

Kurt stays quiet for a while, letting his fingers run through Blaine's still shower-damp hair, gently massaging over his scalp in a way that always just makes Blaine want to _purr. _"I've felt that way too," he finally answers, and Blaine stops himself from saying _yeah, I noticed, _because he knows it will just sound bitter, and he's not. Well, he _is, _he hates how long it took them to get to this point, but it's not with Kurt that he's angry. "For a while now. And it's been… _really _hard to get over. But Blaine, it isn't _true._"

"I know, but -"

"No, don't. Don't think like that. We're allowed to be happy."

Blaine swallows, and when he speaks, his voice is raw. "You make me the happiest I know how to be."

Kurt smiles, his eyes glistening. If Blaine can make him smile like that then he's achieved something amazing. "That's all I've ever wanted."

Who moves first Blaine doesn't know, but then their lips slot together, the angle awkward, slick and messy and a little desperate. Kurt still tastes like morning breath, which should be gross but isn't, it's just Kurt, nothing Blaine hasn't tasted before. They break apart with a soft gasp and the world has narrowed down to Kurt's arms around him. In here, it's their own little world. The only thing that can touch him is Kurt - Kurt who has hurt him, who he has hurt in return - but who he trusts anyway, because even though they might hurt each other again, it's not going to be the way it was. Never again.

_This is real. _Blaine repeats it in his head like a mantra as he snuggles closer to Kurt. _This is real. It's mine, and it's okay to have it._

Of course there is more to think about. There's who will live where (Kurt hopes that Blaine will move back in; Blaine still thinks that Naomi may have had a point about him needing to leave), what to tell Amelia, what to call themselves (Kurt thinks that 'boyfriends' is so juvenile; Blaine says that 'partners' sounds stuffy, and neither of them can even touch the word 'husband' yet, though Blaine can't help but hope.) There will be problems, big and small, that's just their life. And Blaine knows that one night together, one over-emotional talk, won't make everything okay. It won't make them forget everything that has happened, though it might help them to forgive. It won't make Blaine completely okay, not by a longshot.

But it's a first step, and that's the hardest to take, and they have each other's hands to hold.

For now, they don't think about it. For now, they sit in the orangey-pink sunrise pouring through the windows as the city wakes up, and Blaine drinks in the peace and the quiet. Sometimes they kiss, mostly they don't, but there's no urgency to it. It's just an excuse to be closer.

Blaine revels in the fact that he's allowed. He can have this. He has his family back, and no matter what happens, he won't let them go. And maybe he did lose sight of himself along the way, maybe he isn't sure who he is anymore - but he is the man who is loved by Kurt Hummel-Anderson, and that's a good place to start.

"I love you," Kurt breathes, and Blaine peeks up to see his - boyfriend, lover, partner? His _Kurt - _drifting back to sleep. Blaine smiles into Kurt's skin, a warm glow spreading through the center of his chest. He thinks that might be happiness. He lies back down, closing his eyes, and thinks, without a hint of doubt, _we'll be okay._


End file.
